


Caught Red-Handed (But Did No Wrong)

by Grandpas_Cheesebarn



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One, Transformers: Prime
Genre: AU That I’ve Just Made Up, Comfort/Angst, Cutesy, Disabled Character, Drama, Enemies to Enemies, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Lieutenant Dan You Ain’t Got No Arm, Light Angst, Multi, POV Second Person, Reader Fights Everyone, Reader-Insert, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Solving Problems By Punching, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-04-13 19:30:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14119320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grandpas_Cheesebarn/pseuds/Grandpas_Cheesebarn
Summary: You were a college student, barely scraping by. After the car crash that took your left arm years ago, you'd hoped to return to normal life. But your almost alien robotic prosthetic destroyed that hope, and so you fled, taking solace in the fact that at least it couldn't get any worse.Then you'd found yourself captured by giant alien robots calling themselves Decepticons, and suddenly your life gotmuchworse. Whoever your Autobot rescuers were, at least they didn't seem so bad. If only you knew what they all wanted your robot arm for.Hey. At least it can’t get anymoreworse, right?





	1. Prelude

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bumb1eBa3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bumb1eBa3/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Birthday commission. Cheers, lads. You know this'll be a good one.  
> Not sure which universe this one is set in. I kind of mashed a bunch together and made a new one, whoops.

Life had been shitty to you as of late. 

It all started when you'd lost your arm. A pretty dramatic beginning, but your life was nothing if not a story of extremes. 

The doctors called you lucky, lucky to have even survived at all. You didn't feel very lucky, as you stared at the empty space to your left. And you doubted your friend, the now deceased driver, was feeling very lucky either. Or feeling anything, really. 

Anyway. It was kind of hard to continue your passions with only one arm. Sculpting clay wasn't easy with a single hand. But, prosthetics were out of the question. Your family didn't have that kind of money, and you weren't about to put them into debt just for an arm that couldn't move. Maybe a hook hand or something would work. 

So it came as a surprise when the government showed up at your hospital– okay, not the entire government, just some guy in a suit, but still– and offered you a new arm. A fancy, amazing, dangerous arm. You knew it was dangerous because you'd been the one to sign the waiver, and the waiver had been so long it almost bored you to tears. Then they came back the next day, put you under for surgery, and when you woke up, you had yourself a new left arm.

You thought your new arm was a sign that everything was looking up. Sure, you'd just lost one of your friends to a car accident, and then your arm, and not to mention the hospital bills, but...new arm! Fancy, super awesome arm! It was red, with black accents, and looked like it could punch through a submarine. You promptly named it Red, as you were on pain meds at the time. You could still feel with it, but mostly only pressure and sense of heat and weight. No pain, which you learned when you accidentally closed a door on it. The government agent made sure to inform you, in very firm words, just what having a badass robot arm meant. Very boring, in retrospect. Something about new plates in your spine, and how you now possessed a government secret. Oh, and that occasionally, very rarely, trust us, the arm might just release an incredibly minuscule burst of _super strength_.

Rare your ass. Your school days were tough enough without having to deal with the 'rare' and 'minuscule' super strength of your arm adding new holes to the already crumbling building. The day you leaned in to give your crush a shoulder squeeze and instead fractured their entire collarbone was also, coincidentally, the day you decided that maybe you should finish up the rest of school from home. And so through some finagling, you graduated high school. Without many friends, but, well, whatever. Robot arm. 

Try as you might to run from your past, you could never run from the robot arm itself, as it was attached to you via your spine and thus was impossible. But boy did you run good. Ran away to college clear across the country, where no one even knew your name. You were so excited to finally be free that not once did you consider your worst nightmare and looming foe: college debt.

Ouch. Coupled with your apartment costs, and then everything else, and you had a recipe for a Bad Time. You couldn't even afford to get a dog or something to keep you company. Just a cactus. A cactus that you named Fred, but still. Fred couldn't fill the void. And Red wasn't exactly a talker.

Which leads us to where our story begins, late at night in the rundown apartment of you...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When your title is a pun based on the fact that you nicknamed the arm Red


	2. Hey Mr. Stargazer

"I'm home!" You called. No response, which was pretty much what you expected. You closed the door behind yourself with a kick, before stepping to the tiny kitchen and setting down your grocery bag. Singular. Money was tight lately, which was always. With quick hands, you emptied the bag, putting the vegetables into the fridge and the bread in the microwave, taking care not to squeeze them with your robotic hand. Then, you balled up the plastic bags and stuffed them under the counter. Turning your attention to the sink, you grabbed the plastic Big Slurp cup you'd gotten for like ten cents at a garage sale and filled it up with water, before you brought it to the living room. 

The living room had a window, which was about the only upside. Aside from said window, it was minimally furnished, only a shabby sofa and a coffee table composed entirely of cinderblocks and plywood. You had a boxy tv, from which you'd spliced the cable of the only neighbors down the street. But the window, though, that was nice, lovely view unobstructed by curtains (because you couldn't afford them). The city at night was always stunning, and you spared a moment to look out, before shuffling close to the window ledge. Fred sat there, looking as green and prickly as ever. 

"Hey asswipe," You whispered, like you were waking up a sleeping cat. Then, unlike waking up a cat, you poured out some of the water onto Fred. You imagined that if he (or she) had a mouth, and a brain, he'd say something like "mmmmmmm yeah I love it water is my favorite," or, "The sun is my boyfriend."

Your existence was a lonely one. After making sure Fred had enough water, you drank the rest, and ignored the gross aftertaste. Bleh. 

"Time for a shower!" You announced to yourself, like it was a gameshow, setting down the empty cup with a flourish. Showers were always a little like Russian Roulette. Never knew if the water would be hot, or cold. Or, sometimes, swap between the two randomly. It was a miserable life, but it was your life, and so you pretended it was a little like a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure. One that gave you a robot arm.

As you stepped into the bathroom, you took stock. Window, still placed in the worst spot. Shower, still small. Toilet, still at such an angle that to sit meant to contort your body. Home sweet home. You quickly stripped off your clothes, shimmying out of them and throwing them into a pile in the corner after checking the pockets for change. Then, you turned on the shower, waiting for the hot water to hopefully turn on as well. You tapped your foot to some unseen beat, and your robot arm whirred. All was normal.

Well, except for the sudden red light flooding your bathroom. You cringed, already anticipating some kind of rave going on next door. Your blinds were shitty, but they were also just burlap sacks you'd stolen then sewn together. The red light looked like rave lights, but... you stepped closer, peaking through.

A very large robotic eye peaked back.

You shouted in surprise, jumping away. There was the sound of a mechanized chuckle, and then suddenly, your entire damn window was gone, because a gigantic robot hand had reached through. Like it was nothing. You scrambled away, but your bathroom was already horribly small, and so you didn't get very far. Then a robot hand closed around you, cold metal fingers on your very squishy human body, and you wondered if this was the end. Dead during a shower. Dead naked, actually. You always knew you'd die in the bathroom, somehow, but you hadn't thought it would be like this. Who would take care of Fred now? 

"The organic has been found!" The robot who kidnapped you declared. You managed to wiggle out just enough to see outside your metallic prison, and what you saw shocked you; Giant robots? In your neighborhood? It was more likely than you'd think. 

Distantly, you knew that you were panicking. And like every other time, you smothered the panic with pure fear disguised as humor. 

Back to the robots. The one holding you was massive, but they all looked that way. In the darkness, you couldn't quite make out the colorization of...it. Him? It'd sounded like a he. Whatever the robot was, he soon noticed your noticing, and grinned. Why the hell did he have teeth? What was he gonna do with them?

"This might sting for a moment," He assured, followed by the promised sting. It didn't actually sting, which was a positive. The negative being that instead of a sting, it was a searing pain that flooded your entire body. Too much, actually. Very soon, your vision went dark entirely, and you were forced to pass out.

....  
...  
..  
.

You were dead.

No other way to put it. You knew death, and you knew that, without a doubt, you were dead. Deader than dead, actually. Double dead. Personally diagnosed with triple dead. 

You hadn't expected death to be the way it was. You weren't in pain, for sure, but you were just...floating. Drifting in darkness, taking in breaths that didn't feel natural. Your eyes were opened, but it felt like you were underwater. Or submerged in pure chlorine, killing you instantly. 

Oddly enough, you still had Red. You flexed your fingers, staring. Huh. Maybe being dead was less of a physical thing and more of a state of mind.

"Greetings, human," Suddenly, a voice. You turned to face it, and slowly the tickling sensation that you'd been taken on a ruse cruise washed over you. Or maybe that was the sudden realization that you weren't dead and floating in the void, but instead suspended in a tub of jelly. Generic thick and congealing science liquid. Which would explain why breathing was so... unpleasant. And the arm thing. 

"Lord Megatron is ever so pleased at your...arrival," The giant robot simpered, stepping out of the darkness and into view of your tube. He was large, and slightly purple, but also red and yellow and blue? Not to mention grey, actually. He had some fairly evil looking eyes, which seemed to glimmer with mirth at your predicament. 

"Once you've been prepared for surgery, we'll be taking that Autobot arm of yours," The mech leered, before laughing deeply, with a cruel edge, "Then, we'll extract the encrypted data from it, and we'll have no more use for you, I'm afraid!"

You narrowed your eyes, propelling yourself forward to place a hand on the glass. Autobot arm? Encrypted data? You didn't know what those words meant, but they made you angry, and not just because they were threatening to take your arm. You'd already lost your arm once, you weren't gonna lose it a second time. 

"What's the matter, human?" The robot sneered, leaning in close, until his face was almost against the tube, "Afraid?"

Yes. Yes you were. But, more than fear, you felt rage. Rage that slowly seemed to boil your blood, scrunch up your face, make your hands ball up into fists. You pulled back your left arm–

And the glass exploded. 

The giant robot that once stood before you was thrown back, slamming into a metal wall. From the newly formed hole in the glass tube, all the weird liquid began to drain, taking you with it to the ground. You landed on your side, and immediately doubled over, coughing up all the gel and wheezing. Your nose and eyes burned from it, but you didn't spare a moment to wallow in the pain. Instead, you stood up, like a little baby deer, completely wobbly and unsteady. As always, you leaned slightly to the left at first, the weight of your arm pulling you until you steadied again. You were, you noted, still naked. You weren't sure how you felt about that. 

"Com'on, Red," You mumbled, giving your left arm a shake, "Let's get outta here."

You carefully walked forward, stumbling past the still unmoving form of the giant robot. Pausing, you stopped. Then, you stared at him. Was he dead? You'd feel bad if he was dead. Even though he was a bad dude, you didn't know how you felt about killing him. But the presence of the glowing lights on his chest and arms at least assured you that he was probably fine. And so you stepped out into the hallway, your feet making awkward slapping noises on the ground. The air was cold, making the gel that coated you colder. You reached a hand up to try and get some of the stuff off, and were a little successful, throwing it to the ground with a plop. You wrinkled your nose.

"Gross."

But you didn't want to waste any time, so you left the rest alone, instead turning your focus back to the corridor. It was freakishly huge, built for giants, with blackish walls and purple accents. There was some kind of dim lighting as well, illuminating the gunmetal grey. You weren't sure which direction to go in, and so you just...walked forward, legs propelled by the primal desire to just get out. 

You made it fairly far. You think. But then another big door suddenly slid open, and a pair of purple and equally gigantic robots stepped out. You squeaked, and pressed your back against the wall, praying that the government suit had somehow forgotten to mention that your arm came with invisibility. Late-onset invisibility. 

"Starscream hasn't reported back with the prisoner," The first one stated. 

" _Lord_ Starscream, Shiftdrive," The second corrected, "You know how he gets when you say it wrong."

'Shiftdrive' snorted, "Well, he isn't here right now, Backflight, so I don't have to." 

"Primus, it's like you want Lord Megatron to eviscerate us," Backflight sighed. They walked past you, and you held in your sigh of relief, least it doom you.

"What are you, a dictionary?" Shiftdrive needled, and then they were gone. The door was still left wide open, so you skidaddled right on in, sticking close to the sides. You let your eyes adjust, and when they finally did, you nearly jumped for joy. It was a garage! Or, something along those lines. At the end of the room, you could see an opening, and from the opening, the outside! It was still pretty dark outside, but you didn't care. All you cared about was the fact that you could escape, and then–

Well. You weren't sure what you'd do once you escaped. Hire a contractor to fix your window, hopefully. Then you had that test coming up soon that you had to study for...

Whatever. You walked the rest of the length of the room, the tense silence broken only by your thwapping footfalls. From the outside, you could make out a forest. Not your first choice of environment, but you didn't care, sprinting the final bit of the enormous room until you crossed the threshold of the large opening and suddenly, falling. You yelled in your surprise, the wind shrieking around your freefall, and the rapidly growing tree that filled your vision. Naturally, you pivoted, throwing your weight to your left arm in a way not unlike an elbow drop, letting it slam through the unfortunate branches that got in your way. You squeezed your eyes shut, and prayed, just so you wouldn't have to see your death as the ground came closer and closer.

You landed with a slam, an earth shattering krackaboom that shook the forest for miles. Birds screamed. You screamed. Unlike the birds, however, you stopped screaming once you realized you weren't dead. Just, in a very deep, dark hole. Your entire left side hurt, a throbbing pain that stretched all the way down to your bones, and moving only made it worse. Robot arm was none the worse for wear and, thankfully, seemed to have taken the brunt of your dive. Aside from the tree sap, and the layers of dirt, and the pain, you were fine. 

"Aaaaugh," You groaned, laboriously pulling yourself out of the you-shaped indent you'd made in the ground. Then, with the strength of your left arm, you slowly clambered and scuttled out of the crater itself. When you finally forced yourself back onto the forest floor, you let out several heaving breaths. You weren't made for this sort of thing. But you still stood up, roughly brushed a few twigs from your shoulder, and began to walk. Albeit, with a limp, but still. You were naked, you were covered in dirt and bruises, but you were alive. One last time, you glanced up, trying to figure out where you'd fallen from, but seeing nothing. Whatever alien ship they'd taken you to, it was hidden in plain sight. The thought made you shiver, but that was mostly from the wind chilling the now freezing tube gel you still carried with you. But you didn't have time to waste, so you walked.


	3. Chariots of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The adventures of Naked McGee

You walked. It was a mixture of some old movie, where the hero goes on a forest quest, and also a horror movie, where the hero is naked. In the darkness, the only light was from the moon above you, making navigation difficult. You picked your way through the woods as best you could, but you still tripped over fallen branches, or stepped on sharp rocks, or occasionally ran very fast because the shadows looked terrifying. Who knew what sort of cryptid might be hiding in the woods, if aliens were real. You walked until your shivering reached new heights, and the bottom of your feet hurt almost as much as your entire left side. The appearance of the asphalt road was a blessing that you didn't question. Instead, you fell to your knees, your left fist accidentally making a small crater in the road. 

You let out a tired, drawn out shout, hearing it echo down the road. The road signs reflected the moonlight, and your arm whirred. Otherwise, nothing. So, you stood back up, and continued to walk forward, toeing the edge of the road and holding your arm up in the hopes that a car might appear. Your left arm still hung heavy, and without any proper strength, you let it drag your stance. You could feel the grime that stuck to you, and you made a half-hearted attempt at covering your chest. 

"I'm on the road," You half grumbled half hummed, scratchy voice with a throat desperate for water, eyelids drooping, "Long, winding...uhm...road."

Suddenly, in the distance, you could see light. Instantly, you rose back up, straightening yourself out and raising your good arm high.

"Hey!" You shouted, jumping up, "Hey!"

The light came closer– headlights! A car, no, a truck, a semi truck. You paled, recalling all of those true crime documentaries, and how a lot of them involved truckers. But then you remembered that you were running from hostile aliens, and still had your preferred weapon of self defense: arm. So, you felt pretty confident.

"Hey, I need some help!" You shouted, relief in your voice, as the semi truck slowed down to a stop in front of you, red and blue with silver highlights. You hurried up to the window, tapping on it, "Please, you have to help me, I was kidnapped, and..."

The door opened. You rushed inside the cabin, closing the door behind yourself as you exhaled. It was pleasantly warm inside, and you turned to thank the driver.

"Thank–" You paused. 

There was no driver. 

"What."

You blinked, and suddenly, the lights in the cabin flickered, and a man appeared in the driver seat. You squinted your eyes to make sure you weren't going crazy.

"Uhm. Hey?" You greeted. The man was tall, but not overtly so, recently shaved beard still visible on his face, kind blue eyes that stared worriedly at you. Reasonably handsome as well. Not, as you would have expected, the type of person to be driving a semi truck at late o'clock in a spooky forest.

"Are you alright?" The man asked, scrunching together brunette eyebrows. His voice was deep, but pleasant to hear, a nice baritone that almost made you want to blush. Almost. He ran a hand through his cropped, military hair, and you coughed, duly noting that you were getting mud all over his nice seats. But once the surprise washed away, you shot back up. 

"We gotta get out of here!" You declared, frantically looking out the side window, "Hurry, before they find me!"

The man in the driver seat didn't bother asking why or who, and instead, nodded grimly, before sending the truck accelerating forward. For a vehicle of its size, it went pretty fast. 

"Who is chasing you?" The man asked, turning to face you. You blanched.

"Watch the road!" You retorted. The man stopped, then turned back, as if he'd forgotten. You sighed.

"Sorry," You apologized. Then, you gave him your name, "What's yours?" 

The man considered the question for a moment, then hesitantly replied, "Orion."

You'd once had a philosophy class with someone named Kale, so you literally did not care, "Well, Orion, to answer your question, I was kidnapped by alien robots."

Orion took his eyes off the road to give you an incredulous stare, then he noticed your arm, which you were waving up in the air, and only stared harder, a sort of steel in his eyes, "Did they take your arm as well?"

"What? No, this was a different thing," You brought your left arm close to yourself again. A pause, "Are you...not going to ask about the naked thing?"

"Do you want me to ask about the naked thing?" He blinked.

"Well– no, but, I don't want you thinking I was having weird sex in the woods."

"I... won't think that."

You tucked your robot arm across your torso, "So. No questions about the robots either?"

Orion looked sheepish, "I didn't want to rush you. In case you are still in shock, as the term goes." 

"I don't think I'm in shock."

Orion squinted a little, "I have a...friend who's a doctor." 

You turned back to face the window. You didn't feel comfortable looking into his eyes, because he was just so earnest. Also, you were still naked, and trying not to think about that.

"Some giant robots broke into my apartment and kidnapped me, then put me in a tube, and tried to take my arm," You sighed, "It sounds crazy, but it's true."

"I believe you," Orion stated, voice firm. Against your judgment, you looked over at him. He was turned to face you, his hands bunched into fists on his lap, and his face set in a determined expression. Your throat felt dryer than before.

"That's– Hey, put your hands back on the wheel, Onion Boy!"

And just like that, the moment was gone. 

"Don't bother taking me to a police station. Just, take me to my apartment," You sighed, "I have to get that hole repaired."

"They'll still be looking for you," Orion rumbled, "They won't give up until they win."

You snorted, "Yeah, well, I have class on Monday."

The cabin lapsed into silence after that, you picking mud out of the divots of your arm, Orion occasionally glancing over at you. The rest of the drive was pensaively quiet, mostly due to your stubbornness, and how tired you felt. 

"We're here," Orion coughed. You blinked out of your revere, looking over. Yeah, that was your apartment. The new hole was sure looking swell. At least it wasn't raining, and for once you were glad that you lived in the mostly abandoned part of town. For one, it meant that no one was going to break in through your new skylight. And also, no one was going to call the cops about the recent robot fight. Actually, that wasn't really an upside, considering you'd gotten kidnapped and no one probably cared...

"Thanks for the ride," You waved to Orion, "Uh. I don't have a phone, so if you ever want to hang out again, just...show up."

Orion smiled a little sadly, "Stay safe, my friend."

You stepped out of the cabin and closed the door, before walking up to the apartment lobby. You gave Orion one final wave goodbye before walking up the dangerous staircase, mindful of the steps that had broken. By the time you finally reached your apartment, you realized how tired you were. 

"No keys," You grumbled. You briefly debated going back out and climbing up the side of the building and getting inside via the wall hole, but you were tired, okay. So instead, you reached your left hand forward, and punched through the door. Then, you unlocked it, and pushed it open. It closed behind you as you stepped inside, and you redid the several locks, before reminding yourself to get some tape to fix the hole later. 

"Hey Fred," You greeted listlessly as you dragged yourself to the bathroom. At least that door was open, but the entire floor was covered in debris, along with several shards of shattered glass. You realized this after you stepped in a pile of it, and cursed. With a shake of your head, you reentered the bathroom, this time wearing your boots and wielding a broom. You were just about to start sweeping when a noise made your arm start whirring.

"Red, what is it?" You glared. Okay, so sometimes you talked to your arm. And sometimes, rarely, the arm whirred. Only when you were anxious. Or when something weird was about to happen. Your arm continued to whir, and so with a dead expression, you turned to the space your bathroom window once was. A gigantic, purple, angry robot stared back. 

"Oh fuck off."

The robot– probably one of the same that the one you'd punched earlier had referenced– laughed. It was gross, mechanical sound, like a hundred razor blades thrown into a vacuum cleaner. Always with the evil laughing. It didn't even get the chance to do...whatever it was going to do, before you'd reared your left arm back, and punched. The robot was sent sailing away, crashing into the nearby abandoned building. You seethed, throwing the broom to the ground.

"I am so tired of this!" You roared, taking on a sagging posture as you rose up your right arm and pointed, your left arm close to the ground and steaming, "I've had ramen noodles for weeks, I'm gonna fail my Monday test, and now I can't even take a shower? No!"

The arrival of three more purple evil robots wasn't expected, but you didn't care. Instead, you swapped your posture, raising the left arm up in a fist and dropping your right as you took a step forward, "Tell your boss that he can eat a dick. Just, an entire bag of them." 

Predictably, the nearest one didn't like that. Unpredictably, however, was the appearance of a different robot. This one was taller than the others, red and blue with silver, slamming the one closest into the ground. The asphalt fractured, but it wasn't like the road crew would care. From there, he pivoted, turning his momentum into a punch that hit another. His stance was fluid, dropping down and throwing his shoulder into the purple bot, sending it flying onto the one still struggling on the ground from earlier. That just left the third, who squared up at the sight of the red and blue robot. The larger one waited, letting the purple enemy charge forward, before sending a crushing elbow into its sternum. You watched the third one get thrown on top of the one you'd knocked out earlier, staring in awe, before squinting. The colorization of the robot was familiar. Too familiar. When the fighting had stopped, you cleared your throat.

"Where's Orion?" You demanded. The robot paused, looking over at you.

"I am Orion," He replied. You glared. 

"Why should I believe you?" You growled. Despite sharing the same colors, the Orion you knew was a human, who drove a truck, not a robot. The maybe-Orion stepped forward, crouching down so that you were both level. 

"I am Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots. We are a group of autonomous transformers from our home planet of Cybertron. The ones who captured you earlier, the Decepticons, plunged our world into chaos in their quest for power. I believe they are after you, too," Orion, or actually, Optimus, explained. It would've been easy to laugh, but it wasn't some random dude on the internet making up stories. A gigantic robot had kidnapped you earlier. Optimus had saved you. 

"If you're Orion, or Optimus, or whoever, why aren't you a truck?" 

"Cybertronians possess the ability to change shape, usually into that of a vehicle alternate."

A pause.

"Fine," You sighed, "Okay. Great. Awesome."

"Are you...alright?" Optimus asked. 

"No," You laughed, then inhaled, forcing yourself to calm down. Deep breaths, "No. Okay. I'm good. Well, I'm not great, but I'm good. Just...what do I do, then?"

"I fear the only way to ensure your safety is if you come with me. My team and I will be able to keep you safe, until you are able to return," Optimus noted. He still had the same blue...optics, still earnest and alive and so genuine that it made a little part of your chest ache.

"Lemme get some stuff," You wheezed.

"I don't want to worry you, but Decepticon reinforcements may arrive soon. I will try to hold them off, but please, hurry," Optimus informed, though not unkindly. You nodded, before turning and hurrying back into your apartment. You assumed you'd be gone for a while. Maybe a few weeks, even. God, your college was going to kick you out for sure. You'd care more but...you didn't. 

Quickly, you rushed around your tiny home. First, to the bedroom, grabbing your duffle bag. You yanked open the first two drawers of your dresser, dumping them out into the bag. Coincidentally, those were also your only two drawers, so that was that. From there, you ran to the living room, using your left arm to grab the single bookshelf and push it across the floor, before yanking up the floorboard and stuffing the hidden money inside your duffle, ignoring the books that had fallen to the ground. Rising quickly, you grabbed Fred and tucked him in with the last handful of money, before sprinting the rest of the length to the bathroom. You frantically chucked whatever you could reach from the medicine cabinet into your bag, before pivoting and running to Optimus.

"I'm good!" You shouted, zipping the duffle up and strapping it to your back, "I'm good!"

"They're here," Optimus warned, "Hurry!" 

You nodded and let the rest of your momentum carry you into a running leap out of the open hole. Optimus caught you in midair, before doing something you didn't really anticipate; transforming. He literally turned into a car. You knew he could do it, but still, to see it in the flesh was...different. You gaped, though you were safely nestled in the cabin once more. Optimus didn't spare a moment, revving his engine and speeding away from the downed Decepticons, while the new arrivals only floundered in confusion. You gasped as your breath returned to you, and only then were you aware that you were still naked. Naked with shoes, but still naked, and still getting gross all over the seats. All over...Optimus? Was he the seats? 

"So you...turn into cars," You ventured, looking around the cabin. It was still warm, but kind of empty without... human Orion. Human Optimus. Whatever.

"Yes. We can take on various vehicle forms, though the Decepticons are traditionally aerial units," Optimus stated, the steering wheel turning without any hands.

"So. Why did you say your name was Orion earlier?" You asked, in lack of anything better to do.

"I wasn't always the leader of the Autobots," Optimus seemed to sigh, "I was once named Orion Pax."

You mulled the information over over.

"Were you a nerd?"

"I– what?" He stuttered.

You narrowed your eyes, grinning, "Oh my god, you were. I bet you were a librarian or something, with glasses."

"Archivist," Optimus interjected, slightly embarrassed. You laughed, but it was a happy laugh. 

"That's cute," You smiled, "So, what changed? Why'd you turn into a beefcake?"

"A...beefcake? I...Never mind. It is a long story, but, it was due to the need for a leader to lead the Autobots. The Matrix of Leadership chose me, and so I was changed," Optimus sounded a little wistful, almost nostalgic.

"But sometimes you miss it," You supplied. 

"Yes."

You stared down at your left arm, at Red, tapping your fingers on the metal, "Sometimes I miss not having a robot arm. Being normal was fun."

"I'm sorry," Optimus apologized, voice sounding genuinely apologetic. 

"It's fine, I'm over it," You cleared your throat, chasing away the remaining sad feelings, "Can I still call you Onion Boy?"

"...Why would you want to call me Onion Boy?" Optimus sounded mystified.

"Orion sounds like Onion."

"No it doesn't."

"Uh, yeah it does. Un-yun. Or-eye-yun."

"That... is not even remotely similar."

"You're just mad because I'm right," You sniffed demurely. There was a pause, before the cabin shook slightly. It was laughter, you realized. You'd made him laugh. The realization made you laugh as well. The laugh quickly turned into a yawn, however, and you blinked.

"How long until we reach...wherever we're going?" You asked. 

"It will take some time, I'm afraid. There is a small sleeping area behind the seats, if you'd like to rest," Optimus offered. You squinted. You really wanted to ask him why he had that, but were too tired to care. Instead, you nodded, before clambering over the seats and finding the aforementioned area. It didn't have anything beside a small cot, which you instantly laid down on, dropping your duffle beside yourself and using your arms as a pillow. Well, singular arm. Left arm wasn't very comfortable. 

"Don't text and drive," You warned sleepily, before closing your eyes. At this point, half of the interior must have been covered with dirt and mud, courtesy of yourself. Well. In for a penny, in for a pound. And with that, you clocked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Semi trucks come in two different versions: day cabs and sleeper cabs. Sleeper meaning you have a little area in the back behind the seats to sleep. After doing some research, Optimus Prime has a sleeper cab. Why, I don't know


	4. Bounce Neon Lights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the correct term for cybertronian parts would be: eyes to optics, hands to servos, torso to chassis. However, as the reader doesn't know this, I intentionally don't mention it as such.

You were awoken by the rumbling of your arm. As it was on your face, it was a fairly effective alarm, as those things went. At least, the hand was on your face. The elbow was touching the cabin wall, which would explain the vibrating. You blinked awake, moving your arm, before slowly sitting up.

"Sweet Jesus, my side," You instantly collapsed back onto the cot. You let out a string of curses and groans that amounted to 'ow'. 

"Are you alright?" A voice asked. It took a moment for you to register it was Orion. Optimus. Whoever. Then the rest of your situation came back to you, and you let out another groan. 

"Great," You croaked, "Just. Give me a second."

You struggled up to a sitting position, more mindful of your pain. Still naked. The bruises were new, but expected. That's what happened when you jumped out of an aircraft, after all. 

"If you need help," Optimus slowly began.

"I'm not dead yet," You stated, forcing yourself up, planting your booted feet on the cabin ground. More pain, though in your entire body, rocketing up from your soles to your spine. You crumbled back down onto the cot like a flyer in the rain, wheezing, "Nevermind."

The rumbling of the cabin stopped, and suddenly you were in the air, falling for a brief moment, before Optimus was carefully holding you in his large hands. You peered up at him as your duffle landed next to you, feeling a little like a house cat with the size difference.

"Thanks."

"I'll take you to Ratchet as soon as we get inside," Optimus promised. You shuffled the bag closer to you, looking up at him.

"Ratchet your doctor friend?" You asked. Optimus smiled sheepishly.

"I'll introduce you to them all in a moment."

"Them all?" Ho boy, you couldn't wait. 

Optimus carried you towards a large...thing. It seemed to be a secret base, with the way the door opened and Prime walked inside. Likely government, judging by the state of it. Orion was surprisingly gentle as he held you, and you tapped your left arm, pondering.

"Are you guys gonna take my arm?" You rose an eyebrow. 

Optimus blanched, as best a robot could, "Why would we do that?"

"It has...secrets," You wiggled your fingers mysteriously. 

"Well then, considering it is your arm, I hope you'll let us discover the secrets together," Optimus smiled. 

Despite yourself, you smiled back, "Ah. Charmer."

And then you discovered that robots could indeed blush as well. But you didn't have any more time for ribbing, before Optimus stepped into the base proper. The lights above were bright, and you shifted in Prime's hands, getting a full view of the main area. Large computers, likely custom made. Metal walls, mixed with stone and rock. And, of course, the several other giant robots dotted around the room. Optimus stood for a moment, before veering off, stepping down a side hallway. You blinked, but he beat you to it.

"I felt that you'd rather get washed before meeting them all," Optimus rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. You remembered once more that you were naked, and suddenly all you could think about was how nice a shower would be.

"Yeah," You scratched at a patch of dried dirt, "That'd be nice."

Optimus stopped before a large door, entering in a key code on a holographic interface, before the door slid open. Another large room greeted you, though it was more personalized that the main area. A bed in the corner, some small things, a desk for work with data pads strewn across. You hummed. The size difference was... a lot, but, not overwhelming. You were certain you were at least a forth or fifth of his size. 

"The previous quarters here were left untouched, in case of emergency. They should have a working shower, along with space for your things," Prime informed, carefully bringing you over to the area and setting you down. Yeah. You were about a little lower than his knee height. 

"I'll be right out," You stretched, dragging the bag into the room. The door closed behind you. The room itself was large, but not overtly. From where you entered, there was a walking space. As you stepped forward, the wall to your left had a window, while the open area to your right had a half wall, a desk pushed up to it and a separate bathroom behind the desk. Forward, past the half wall, was a bed, two steps leading to it to create the illusion of more space in the dip. Pressed against the other side of the half wall was a sofa and small table, with a dresser built into the wall to your left. You smiled, setting down your duffle bag. The first thing you did as you opened it was grab Fred and set him near the window. 

"Home sweet temporary home," You quirked a smile, lightly touching Fred's spikes with your left hand. You took out a change of clothes from your bag, opting to put the rest away later. Instead, you made your way to the shower, whistling when you entered. Really fancy. Government, no doubt. You were careful not to damage the metal shower knobs as you turned them with your left, hanging the clothes up with your right. The instant the warm water hit your skin, you let out a sigh of relief. Water. Sweet, sweet water. You could feel it stripping away the outer layer of dirt, working down to the gross undercoating of dried tube gel and plant matter. Your aching muscles cooed with relief at the heat. In fact, the only downside was the fact that you left a handprint in the metal wall from your delight. 

Soon, too soon, the shower was over. You couldn't remember the last time you'd had one so amazing, and quickly toweled off with a cloth you'd brought prior. You shimmied into your underwear, fidgeting it on to get rid of a wedgie. It was lacy, but you hadn't really owned much other underwear. It was on sale, and made you feel hot. Who cared. The rest of your clothes came on soon after, all comfortable and form fitting. With the laces of your shoes tied firm, you finally stepped out of your room, ready to face anything. Even your left arm was shiny and clean. Though, the instant you walked out, it seemed that Optimus stiffened and quickly looked away. Hm.

"You ready over there, Onion Boy?" You called, smiling playfully. That took his tension away, and you snrked, walking over to him. 

"You look...good," He stated, moving to the door and opening it. You followed. 

"Thanks. I really tried to stick with the nature look, but it wasn't working with me," You divulged. You winced when you put your foot down the wrong way, sending more dull pain up your spine, "Hope I get to meet this Ratchet soon."

"In fact, we are here," Optimus replied. You looked back up, taking in the main area of operations once more. As with earlier, it didn't fail to impress. You pulled your arms over your head, stretching them as you rose your eyebrows. Then, you straightened your natural lean as best you could, in the hopes of making a good impression. 

"Autobots," Optimus both greeted and announced. The assembled Autobots congregated, murmuring amongst one another. Probably. Prime began again, gesturing to you, "This human has recently come under our protection, due to the Decepticons kidnapping them with intent on removing their Cybertronian arm. It is my belief that their arm contains encoded information that could help or hinder us."

"Wait my what."

Optimus continued without pause, "For now, I will be overseeing their stay, until I am certain they can return to a normal life without Decepticon threat."

You rose a hand, "I have several new questions."

Coincidentally, it was your left hand. One of the Autobots in front of you whistled.

"Well I'll be. Looks like it is Cybertronian tech after all," He hummed. You turned your attention to him as you lowered your arm back down. He was largely white, with some grey and blue. He seemed to be some kind of race car. Then, upon noticing your noticing, he flashed you a winning grin, "The name's Jazz. Happy to meet ya."

His drawl was smooth, but you recovered and gave him your name, and what you hoped was a passable imitation of his radiant smile. 

"Jazz is our special operations leader," Optimus informed. Jazz shot you finger guns. Optimus moved on to the next Autobot, the one standing close to Jazz, "And this is Prowl, my second in command."

Prowl locked eyes with you and nodded. His coloring was almost the same as Jazz, but with more black and grey, with red accents. A police car model, you could see, and he had door...wings on his back that occasionally twitched in the air. You weren't sure what to do but nod back. 

"Arcee is our recon specialist," Optimus drew your attention to the side, and you blinked at the large female Autobot. She looked deadly, yet tired. Didn't have the same bulky armor of Optimus, but still looked just as dangerous. 

"Hey, kid," She rose a hand up briefly then lowered it. She made it look so cool. You, on the other hand, could only wiggle your fingers like a nerd. Inside, you perished. 

"Our scout, Bumblebee," Prime gestured. You focused on the bot, and found yourself surprised at his short height. Short, yellow, compact; just like a bumblebee. A little cute, too. He waved as soon as he saw you, earnest and eager. But instead of speaking, he only made a series of noises. Your eyes flickered to his voicebox, and you noted the ruined metal, but didn't ask. 

"Leaving me for last, Prime?" An old voice said. You had to turn your entire body to meet the source, an older looking Autobot, white and red coloring. An ambulance, you could tell. 

"If he introduced you first, there wouldn't be any room for the rest of us," Jazz needled. You smiled mischievously as the other mech rolled his eyes.

"This is Ratchet," Optimus smiled, "My third in command, and the team medic."

"And it looks like you could use my help," Ratchet glanced at your arm. The robot one, specifically, "When was the last time you had that repaired?"

You thought about it.

"Never."

"Well," Ratchet seemed to blink, "That would explain that."

Before any more conversation could take place, the smaller set of doors swung open, and two humans walked in. One male, one female, one holding a bag of bagels, the other holding a phone.

"I'm telling you Jeff, ancient grain doesn't mean the grain itself is ancient," The woman stated, not looking up from her typing. Jeff, her male partner, closed the door behind himself.

"Well, then why does it say ancient grains on it, Sam?" Jeff retorted, peering into the bagel bag.

"Because they're grains that existed a lot time ago– not like that, Jeff, I swear–" Sam paused, looking up, "Oh. Team meeting?"

Jeff stopped as well, putting a bagel back down, "New person. Heyo."

You waved back, confused. Thankfully, Optimus was there to save the day.

"These are Field Agents Jeff Whitehill and Sam Connell. They have been assigned to work with us by a secret government program, in order to prevent Decepticon attacks on the general population," Optimus explained. You let it sink it.

"So these are the Area 51 guys," You peered. 

"Hey, we aren't just the Area 51 guys," Sam bristled, "We're a highly selective government agency that safeguards unknown and anomalous secrets from the public."

"Like aliens," Jeff added. Sam hit Jeff. 

"Think of us like the program that...gave you your arm," Sam settled on. You thought on that for a moment.

"So. Would you be able to...explain why the Decepticons are trying to kill me for my arm?" You questioned. Sam blinked, then looked at her wrist.

"Wow, look at the time," Sam gasped, "Jeff, we're late for our...Pilates."

"Can I take the bagels?" Jeff asked, already stuffing a bagel into his mouth. 

"Sure," Sam decided, and then they both scuttled away, going into a different room and leaving you with your unanswered questions.

"Ratchet, would you mind checking over..." Optimus asked, but Ratchet waved him off.

"Yes, yes," Ratchet looked down at you, "Come on, I'll check you over in the medical bay. You can't be in any worse shape than Prime usually has."  
And with that, Ratchet and you walked away, stepping down the halls to the med bay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm playing the arm like it's the Long Fall Boots in Portal. That kind of jump from the sky should have hurt you a lot more than it did, but it didn't. This story is both a commission and a fun little aside from my normally dramatic writing. So try not to think about certain things too hard.


	5. Here's To My Future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh I don’t know where I said this before but I’ll just put it here again because I’m lazy Susan. Because of fighting scenes, Cybertronian proportions are somewhat shorter, and the humans somewhat taller. Which, basically that means you’re the size of a housecat

With some assistance, you sat on a large table, you left arm stretched out while your legs hung over the edge. Thankfully, the first thing Ratchet had done was give you a small medical bag, the kind that the previous base occupants must have left behind. Importantly, it had pain killers, so you took a few of those. After that, Ratchet began to examine your left arm, occasionally going over to some computer and typing some things, or returning with strange equipment. 

"So..." You frowned, "My arm isn't human, is it?"

Ratchet looked over at you, "I thought that was obvious. It is metal, after all."

You chewed the inside of your cheek, "I meant, it wasn't made by humans."

"Ah," Ratchet paused, then sighed, "No. From what I gathered, it appears to be composed of salvaged Autobot materials."

Your eyes widened, "Was my arm stolen from a dead body?"

"What? No," Ratchet frowned, but as you sighed in relief, he continued, "Your arm is much too small for that. It was likely originally taken from an offlined mech, yes, but then repurposed and given to you."

That...didn't make you feel better.

"That doesn't make me feel better," You stated and held your left arm closer.

"Well, it explains why the Decepticons want your arm so badly," Ratchet seemed to shrug without any of the actual motion, all professionalism. 

Your arm shifted, the components clicking together. 

"So... the Decepticons mentioned codes in my arm," You looked down at your arm, willing it into silence.

"And the tests here say that's about right," Ratchet stated, pulling out a data pad. Then, he paused, "That's not right," Ratchet rose his free hand up to his...ear, "Prime, stop hiding outside and get in here."

The sound of shuffling, before Optimus stepped inside, and though his expression betrayed nothing but friendliness, his eyes shifted slightly with embarrassment. Ratchet handed him a data pad, gesturing a few times, and Optimus narrowed his eyes.

"Where did you get your prosthetic arm?" Optimus inquired, looking at you, all business.

"The...government," You replied, before adding, "I think I still have the papers. Somewhere," but that somewhere was probably in the garbage can from ten years ago. 

"Well, good news is: your arm is perfectly functional," Ratchet announced, "Bad news is: it seems to have been fused to your spinal cord."

"Oh," That didn't sound good. Meanwhile, Ratchet pulled up a display, showing a holographic skeleton that sort of resembled you. The robotic arm was definitely spot on. Ratchet pointed to the plating connecting your arm to your spine, and then paged to a new layer, showing the nerve connections that had been made in the years after the accident.

"Is it dangerous?" Optimus asked.

"Removing it, even with expert surgery, would end in death," Ratchet showed a simulated version of the arm being removed. It even had little x's over your eyes. 

"Should I be worried?" You glanced at your arm, "I feel worried."

"Not unless you were planning on trying to remove it," Ratchet rose an eyebrow. 

"I thought you guys might want it back," You attempted, but your voice was sour, "I mean. I think it's my arm by now, but..."

"Oh," Ratchet closed the program, shaking his head, "If you're talking about the encrypted data on it, don't worry. That's what I called Prime in here to talk about."

Sensing that his presence had a real reason as opposed to just being heckled, Optimus looked over at Ratchet, "What is it?"

Ratchet plucked away at the keyboard again, yet another set of displays appear. Data, this time. In a language you couldn't understand, but Ratchet and Optimus had no trouble. At the very least, you could tell it was important.

"The level of encryption in the arm is beyond anything I can just decode," Ratchet huffed, "Have you seen it anywhere before?"

Optimus considered the symbols, "No. I can only say that it's a very advanced scrambler key, and that Jazz or Prowl might know more."

"Why's it so protected?" You questioned, staring up at the data and biting the inside of your cheek, "What kind of stuff were they hiding in here?"

"During the war, it was necessary for even the simplest of information to be encoded," Optimus explained, "The more important it was, the greater the encryption on it. It was...safer for any special operatives to store the data in a secure location, such as the chassis, or inner servo."

"The practice fell out of fashion with the rise of decryptor software, largely found in broadcasting models," Optimus added, "and the fact that the information area didn't have to be attached to the mech to be accessed."

You flexed your arm, "So. So basically, It's like I'm wearing a really big sign that says 'hit me', and I'm also a piñata, but instead of being filled with candy, it's important data."

"I don't know what a piñata is," Optimus confessed. 

"Neither do I, sometimes." 

Sensing the conversation was going off-course, Ratchet intervened, though he didn't even bother looking up from the data analysis, "Even with Jazz and Prowl, it'll take some time until the information can be decrypted."

"How long?" You prodded.

"Anywhere from a few days to several weeks."

"That's a... long time," You flinched. Not that you weren't cool with it, but, you had other stuff to do. College, for one. Maybe. You weren't so sure about actually doing college anymore. Then there was rent...also maybe. Hm.

"The only way to make it go faster would be to take your arm," Ratchet glanced over at you, voice sarcastic. You blanched.

"You know what, never mind. This is fine."

"Our home is open to you for as long as you need," Optimus reminded, blindingly friendly. You considered– briefly– refusing instead, considered going back to a cold apartment and a schooling that swept you aside. It was a very brief consideration, in all honesty, like considering if one wanted to eat a handful of gravel or a nice sandwich.

"Like I said, it's fine," You shrugged, already glad you'd grabbed all of your things before you'd left. If you had neighbors, you'd be worried about people stealing anything. But you both had nothing to steal and there was no one to do the stealing. Unless they wanted your Big Slurp cup. At that point, though, just take it. 

But if anything, Optimus' excitement seemed to grow at your affirmation. It was mostly the eyes. Or, optics? You'd have to ask later, when you weren't feeling so tired. 

"Optimus, I'm gonna call it a night, yeah?" You stepped back up to your feet, glancing over the table for a way off that didn't involve jumping. 

"Of course. Ratchet, do you need anything before we go?" Optimus asked. Ratchet grumbled something, before shaking his head.

"I'll see what Jazz and Prowl can do with what I've found so far," Ratchet waved you both off. Optimus extended his hand to you, and you scrambled on, taking up most of the palm as he brought you close to his...chassis. Chest. Whatever. 

"Thanks, doc," You called as you left. Back through the main area, Jazz and Prowl bumping shoulders as they went towards the medical bay, Agent Whitehill and Agent Connell actually doing pilates. Soon, Optimus brought you back to his quarters, which were also your quarters. As he set you down onto the floor, you turned to him. 

"Hey, I just wanted to thank you," You mumbled, ears a little red. He made to say something, but you stopped him, "I mean it. This, everything, it means a lot to me," And since you were getting everything out there, you tacked on a red-faced, "And thanks for not making fun of me for the arm."

"You're welcome," Optimus replied, "But why would I make fun of your arm?"

You made some complex gesture that amounted to a shrug but also finger guns, "Believe it or not, I don't actually mean to punch half the things I punch. Arm just does that."

"Well," Optimus trailed off, before his smile became slightly mirthful, "If you want my opinion, I think the arm makes you look like 'hardcore'."

"Is that a jab? Is, is this getting back at me for calling you a beefcake earlier?" You frowned.

"Yes."

"Well, I'm not taking it back."

"Neither am I."

A brief exchange of stares, before you lost, a snicker escaping you. Optimus managed to look victorious without ever losing the open and friendly expression he held. You rose to punch him in the leg, but stopped, setting your left arm back down. Then, gently, you hit him with your right. 

"Well, time for me to sleep. You know where to find me if you need me," You waved, before stepping into your room, the door closing behind you with a gentle hiss. Only later, once you were halfway through putting your duffle bag contents away, did you stop and realize:

"Wait. Was he flirting with me?"

A pause.

"Was I flirting with him?"

And finally,

"Is...is this weird? I feel like this is weird. I'm definitely conflicted about this."

But, as with any problem you had in the past, you decided you...really didn't care. It was a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure, after all. And along with giving you a robot arm, you also seemed to be flirting (and being flirted back) with a giant robot. Nice


	6. And So I Hope For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah everything is very happy and nice.  
> Can’t wait for it to explode

It shouldn’t have happened, but it did: you soon realized that you were bored. Bored, despite being stuck in some weird sci-fi novel, with actual alien robots and government secrets and who knew what else. But it only took a few days until being stuck in a single area got to you, and you became...antsy. 

And for you, being antsy meant your arm started getting shifty as well. Which wasn’t good for anyone, or anything, but especially not good for the structural integrity of the walls around base.

“Optimus,” You called, trying to yank your hand out of the wall you’d leaned on. Optimus looked over, noticed your predicament, and snickered. Just once, really, very tiny, hardly noticeable, technically only a snrk. You still heard it, though, and glared, glad there wasn’t anyone else in the room. 

“Let me help,” Optimus leaned down, offering you a hand.

“Oh so chivalrous,” You falsettoed, using his aid to extract yourself, before dryly continuing, “Wherever would I be without you?” 

“Stuck in a wall, maybe,” Optimus smiled. But the moment was ruined by your robotic arm plates rapidly shifting, only stopping once you smacked it. 

“Does your arm do that often?” Optimus inquired. You considered the question. 

“No. Maybe. Sometimes,” You answered, before adding, “Only when I haven’t used it in a while.”

Optimus brightened, “We have training simulations, if you’d like.”

But you waved him off, “It doesn’t work on holograms.”

“Oh,” He paused, “How did you solve this before, then?”

“Well,” You hummed, flexing your digits, “When I was younger, I punched rocks.”

“You...punched rocks?”

“Yeah,” You confirmed, thinking, “I mean, large rocks. Boulders, you know.”

Optimus seemed on the verge of offering to go find you some really big rocks before you stopped him, “But it also stops if I go out and do stuff. It’s kind of like a dog, I think.” 

Then, you blinked. A smile.

“I have the best idea,” You realized. Optimus held an expression of cautious optimism.

“Oh?” 

Which was how you ended up outside the base, sitting in the semi truck that was Optimus, but also with Optimus sitting beside you. The human version, to be specific. You’d had to refer to him as Orion in public. He looked oddly concerned. 

“Are you sure about this?” Orion looked at you, and you note that he didn’t even pretend to be driving. It’s a wonder you didn’t notice when you first met him.

“It’s a day in the city, not an exam. Come on, Onion, it’ll be fun. I promise,” You assured, “When was the last time you relaxed, anyway?”

Orion-Prime looked as though he didn’t know the answer. Or maybe that was his default expression as a human. He looked self conscious, tugging at his jacket. You felt a little bad that he was nervous. 

“They won’t even notice you,” You attempted, even though he seemed to be the one thing you couldn’t take your eyes off, jeez, “They’ll be busy staring at my arm. Scout’s honor.”

For someone so big, he sure didn’t like being the center of attention. It was kinda cute.

“I trust you,” Orion made a weak smile, before going back to pretending to drive. Pretending to drive...himself. You absently patted your door.

“We’ll stop at the convenience store first,” You nodded, “We’ll get coffee. I’ll show you what coffee is, because it’ll be a learning experience.”

The city was close, thankfully, so you didn’t have to drive for long. It was a nice day as well, and you partially leaned out of the car, squinting your eyes in the wind while your hair made a mockery of you.

“You’ll have to use a parking deck or something for the day,” You stated, leaning back in and riffling through your pocket, “It’s like, a few dollars or something,” You stopped, looking over at Orion, “...Can you walk far from...yourself?”

Orion considered the question for a second, “Holoforms have a small range, but I don’t remember exactly how far. A few blocks, to be safe.”

Well, that was a pretty large amount to you.

“That should be fine,” You agreed. It wasn’t like you would be going super far around the city. So you pulled into the parking area with little fuss (okay, maybe some fuss, but no one had any right charging that much for parking. You were a veteran, or something. You’d lost your arm. They should be sympathetic.)

Once parked, you both stepped out, and you gladly relished the air. Just the right temperature for short sleeved shirts, at least for you. Orion also looked really...well, good. Better than good, but you weren’t sure if you were only just noticing that because he looked human now. Surely he hadn’t looked so ~~hot~~ nice before.

“Trying out a new look?” You needled, walking over to stand beside him. His hair definitely looked tidier, somehow, or maybe it looked more messy. You hadn’t paid much attention to his clothes when you first met him, and now you wished you had, just so you had a frame of reference. Orion looked slightly flustered as he turned to you.

“Agent Whitehill said I should ‘clean up’ before I left earlier,” Orion admitted. You wondered how Whitehill or Connell were ever accepted into the government, but begrudgingly decided that maybe you’d thank Agent Whitehill later. Maybe. Or you’d punch him instead. Your feelings were pretty conflicted on the matter, so you ignored them. 

“You look good,” You settled on. Truthfully, he looked fantastic, but he probably got that a lot, and you didn’t want all the compliments going to his head. Which was very pretty. Damnit. Anyway, instead of doing what you expected, which was shooting one back at you, Orion turned even more red. While not anticipated, it didn’t make it any less welcome. Maybe you would compliment him more, if it did that. 

You both walked out of the parking area, shoulder to shoulder. With each step, you could feel the tension bleeding out of your prosthetic arm, and you sighed in relief. By the time you were on the sidewalk again, you felt great. You turned to Orion, grin on your face.

“Welcome to the city,” You bumped your shoulder with his, before gesturing widely to the street, with the arching buildings and throngs of people. A few of said people were staring your way, but you felt it had more to do with your arm than anything. In a crowd, Orion was just one man amongst many. Slightly awkward looking, but normal. You didn’t bother hiding your arm, using it to direct attention to yourself if it made your buddy feel better. Optimus had a tough life, he deserved a day off. And if that meant directing your arm around like a conductor with the sunlight, then you’d do it. You’d been dealing with the stares all your life, after all, so it was not skin off your back. 

“Come on, let’s grab the coffee,” You started to walk, only to stop. It’d be really easy to get lost in the crowd. So, you turned back to Orion, and lightly held his wrist. He seemed surprised by the contact, but then smiled.

“So we don’t get lost,” You flustered. 

“Of course,” Orion only seemed to smile more without actually shifting his expression, “Wouldn’t want you getting lost without me.”

Together, you both navigated your way through the crowds. It wasn’t hard, but you felt better about sticking together. It didn’t take long until you made it to a convenience store, feeling the air blast you as you entered. Despite the comfortable temperatures outside, you were glad to get into the store. Your enthusiasm dimmed slightly when you stepped into something dried and sticky, but you took it in stride. All part of the experience. 

“Is it supposed to be so...” Orion started, only for you to perk up and interrupt him.

“Ooh, I see the coffee,” You nudged, pointing to the coffee...pots. Area. Coffee bar? Really low quality coffee dispensary. You hurried over to the coffee kettles, before yanking a styrofoam cup out, the smallest size based on price. Orion finally caught up, also having caught his shoes into the stinky mess from earlier.

“Is this coffee?” He looked slightly concerned. You hummed absently, scanning the pots.

“What kind should we get?” You asked, tapping the labels, “I think we can manage a ghetto latte if we wanted to.”

“What is a ghetto latte?”

“A mistake. But a mistake with purpose.”  
You stopped on the label for Cafe Special, which sounded ominous enough. A few rapid button presses, and the coffee began to dispense. Meanwhile, you turned your attention to the extra bits. Like sugar, or milk powder. You randomly selected a handful, while Orion watched in growing concern or possibly slight fear. Definitely fear once you dumped all of them in at once. 

“Done,” You sang, holding it in your left hand immediately while only distantly aware of it being ‘hot’. One of the perks, really. You popped a lid on it, before focusing in on the hot dog conveyor belt thing. 

“Have you ever had a hotdog?” You inquired, watching the dogs roll over and over. It was kind of mesmerizing, but a little gross.

“I can’t say I have,” Orion replied, also watching the dogs, “Are they supposed to be so...tubular?”

“Totally tubular, my dude,” You snorted, walking up to them. You set the coffee down, rapidly taking a dog out and slamming it into the bun. Then, a bunch of condiments, because they were free, and you had a hotdog. You smiled blankly and made your way to the register, while Orion just...stared. Paying was quick, and you called for Orion to follow you. You took a seat outside, plopping down on the open bench. Orion sat beside you, and you gingerly scooted a little closer.

“Here, try the coffee first,” You urged. Orion took the cup in his hands, and at your encouragement, took a small sip. Instantly, he recoiled, but not overtly. The disgust was visible. 

“Is it supposed to taste this way?” He managed, scrunching up his face and hurrying to give you the cup back. You mimicked the face as you took your own sip. 

“Yeah. I think. You know, I don’t really know,” You paused, “I hate coffee, so maybe I’m not the best judge.” 

Orion stared at you in bewilderment. Then, his face opened into a smile. Not the slight smile like he usually did, but a real one, genuinely crinkled his eyes and he gave a barked, surprised laugh. You beamed, victorious pride welling in you, flooding to your cheeks precisely. 

“We gotta try the hotdog next,” You reminded. Once Orion was done laughing, of course.

“Is the hotdog going to be bad as well?” He asked, still smiling.

You thought on it, “Honestly, probably.”

And then it was Orion’s turn to think, “Alright. Let me try it.”

Then, you laughed instead.


	7. The Golden Age

Unsurprisingly, the hotdog was bad. But it was bad in the way that only hotdogs could be, while still tasting fine as long as you didn’t think about it too much. By the time you were done with it, you and Orion were bumping shoulders, you pointing out things you saw while he commented on them, or vice versa, the coffee sent to an exile in the nearby garbage bin and forgotten. The sun was well in the middle of its cycle, directly above you, casting whimsical shadows on the ground below. You stood up from the bench, drumming your fingers on your thighs and smiling.

“The park’s nearby,” Your eyes twinkled, “Do you wanna go see it?”

“Yes,” Orion smiled, “Though, I would hate to get lost on the way.”

“It would be devastating,” You affirmed, reaching your hand forward. Orion met you halfway, but instead of wrists meeting, it was hands. Specifically, your left hand and his right. You didn’t have any nerve endings in the left arm, but that didn’t stop your body from lighting up like a firecracker at the contact. 

“Just being safe,” Orion’s pleasant expression didn’t waver or shift, holding your metal hand with gentle care. But you knew. You knew affections, and Orion was nothing if not affected. It made stubborn little blossoms erupt across your normally placid face, red on your cheeks. 

“Can’t have my Onion getting lost,” You stuttered, raising your head up like a prideful bird, only realizing after that you’d called him yours, which was a whole different can of spaghetti that you weren’t going to touch. The gross kind of spaghetti, too. Like, the Chef Boyifyoudont of Freudian slips. The Freud of Freud. God, you shouldn’t have taken that psychology course. 

Anyway. With Orion’s hand in yours, you had to focus on not crushing it. Which was difficult, for sure, since the default setting on your arm seemed to be crush, or smash, or occasionally purée. You weren’t sure why Orion was holding that one specifically, when you had a spare and normal hand a foot away, but the sensations were still sending confusing messages to your brain so you just let it happen. All the better to lead Orion to the park, you decided, as though you were some sort of metal-armed Pied Piper. Whatever. 

The park was nice. Much like any other park, it had trees, spindly bark limbs that brushed up to the sky. It was a pleasant day, and the powder blue mixed with the wispy white clouds, like a bowl of spilled water across the heavens. You and Orion walked, watching the various things that passed by. Children romped, kicking up daisies and bellowing wordless battle cries. Groups of old people accosted the wildlife. The birds screamed. All was normal, and all was good.

“That’s the Canadian goose,” You pointed, as the children moved onto assaulting the geese, “They’re mean.”

Orion watched the geese strike back, chasing the children instead, “Mean?”

“I would say they’re assholes,” You whispered, “But I shouldn’t call the kids names.”

Orion captured his laughter with a smile. You preened, your left arm shifting again. The sound of laughter to your right drew your attention, and you glanced over. And, like the clouds that passed in front of the sun, your mood sobered. There was a girl walking with her friend, giggling, bickering. She had brunette hair, glasses that took up half her face, stocky build and excited grin. She waved a pale hand, the sleeve of her jacket slapping her friend, and they both shrieked with another set of laughter. 

She looked like your friend. Close enough, at first glance at least. The differences became more pronounced with each second you continued to stare, and you suddenly realized that you...couldn’t remember your friend’s face. Not exactly. Not anymore. Your left arm throbbed with a phantom pain, and you absently took it away from Orion, bringing it to your chest and rubbing it. You couldn’t remember her face, but you’d never be able to forget her scream as the truck hit. 

And today had been going so well, too.

You walked in silence for a while, your expression blank, Orion still close beside you. The park seemed to get quieter, as you both walked to some open spot on the grounds and sat, the grass making an annoyance of itself. You sighed.

“Did you ever ask to be different?” You asked, not looking at Orion. He seemed to pick up on the mood, at least. 

“People rarely do,” He replied. You looked at your left hand, studying the palm, the divots and blemishes in the pads. 

“We were getting milkshakes that day,” You began, unprompted, “We were in the car, arguing about flavors or the car temperature or whatever we could reach. I don’t know. We were friends, since... middle school, maybe. Best friends, I’d say.”

You fell down onto your back and held your hand up to the sky, blocking the sun so the rays just barely peaked through your fingers, “The truck ran a red light and smashed into the driver’s side. At least, that’s what they tell me. I don’t really remember much. The crunch of metal, and then the screaming, and the pain in my arm.”

You let your arm fall back onto the ground as well, steam rising from it, scorching the grass a little. 

“Did you have friends? Anyone you lost?” You finally turned to Orion, “Did you ask to be different?”

Orion looked...haunted. Or hunted. You realized you already knew the answer to your question. Orion cleared his throat anyway, squinting his eyes in the light.

“I was an archivist. They always make sure that’s in the story, a lowly cybertronian, transformed into a hero. It helps with morale.”

Or maybe it wasn’t the light. Orion closed his eyes nonetheless, and you propped yourself up by your elbow, absently picking grass from the Earth.

“What they don’t mention is that I didn’t want to become Prime, or all the friends I left in my wake when I changed. Most died,” Orion rumbled. He reopened his eyes, looking at you solemnly, “Imagine you’re the most responsible and concerned in the room, and so they make you a leader.”

You could see it. A war that took boys and turned them into men. God, you were getting poetic, and sappy, and it made your insides kick and stumble like hell. You didn’t want to see Orion sad; today was supposed to be a good day, and here you were, talking about your collective garbage lives. You didn’t have any magical wise sayings like he did, to explain the situation or help him. But, you could do one better.

“Life’s bitter like that. Like coffee,” You rolled back onto your back, staring at the clouds. The stare turned into a glare, “But we don’t like coffee, do we? Hell no,” You emphasized, struggling to your knees, “Coffee sucks. Life sucks,” You shouted, much to the confusion of nearby park-goers, as you stood to your feet and pointed at Orion, “If hating coffee means we won’t just lay down and accept what we’re given, then I’ll hate it as long as I live!”

Orion looked...considerate. That was the word. He wasn’t struck dumb by awe at your speech, but he really seemed to be thinking about it. You brushed off grass and dirt from your clothes and wondered why you’d gotten so flustered. Damnit. Maybe Orion was contagious, with all his earnestness and stuff. But then, Orion stood up as well, all trouble gone from his face. 

“No one asks to be a hero,” He stated, but smiling, “But I think you make a good one.”

You waved him off, embarrassed, “Ah, yeah, it’s nothing, Onion. Come on, we gotta go to the arcade before all the good games get taken.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dohoho how cute. Anyway, one more chapter of this. From an author’s standpoint, it’s to make the reader’s connection with Optimus, making the rest of the story flow naturally. But I also wanted a cute chapter.


	8. Static Palms

This time, on the way to the arcade, you were the one to grab Orion’s hand, grumbling something about crowds or safety. The rest of the walk through the park was peaceful, devoid of the tension from earlier. In a way, you were happier, more glad to have gotten all of that out there. Most people didn’t understand what it was like, but Orion seemed to get it. He was a good guy like that. Or robot. He was a good. 

The arcade you approached was one of the really nice ones. As in, imported directly from Japan. With actual current arcade games and cool stuff, not the kind of place you’d go that time-warped you to the 90’s or something. The place had multiple floors. So obviously the first floor you went to was the DDR floor. It was time to bring a dance dance revolution to this place, or at the very least, to Onion. Speaking of, he looked at the machine itself with...confusion. 

“It’s a dance machine,” You explained, “We pick a song and then have to dance to it.”

You popped a dollar into the machine, stepping up into the dance pad. Orion took the place to your right, and you secured any loose items, preparing yourself. Then, you scrolled through the song list, flicking past the weird or boring. 

“How about this one?” You asked, turning to Orion as the song preview played. He still looked a little confused, but took it with grace and smiled with a shrug. You chewed the inside of your lip and selected it, before stepping back, letting the little animated man do a small dance to demonstrate how to play. Orion studied the video, then nodded once it disappeared.

“Do you know why they call me Disco Danger in college?” You looked over at Orion. He blinked.

“I don’t,” He replied, curious. But your shark grin made a sort of realization come to him, and by then it was too late.

“Because,” You grinned, as the first dance moves came down the screen, “I’m about to slay you.”

Then the music roared and you were no more. Orion watched as you moved with an almost inhuman speed, your moves flawless, to the point that it seemed you were trained at this kind of thing. Your feet struck each dance pad with enough force to shatter glass, your expression steel. Orion kept up, matching your score at first. But then he realized, with a detached sort of horror, that you were only warming up. 

It was a slaughter. 

You slammed your feet down, using the bars at the side to occasionally give yourself better range of motion. At one point you dropped down, your left up propelling you into a sick spin that took out several notes at once. You moved like electricity, like you weren’t even real, and you weren’t even conscious of it. You and the dance became one. The music was you and you were its conduit. Through you, a new person emerged: Disco Danger.

Then, the song ended. In an instant, everything returned to normal, the freaky look in your eyes disappearing. You stood back up with a phew, using your shirt to wipe away the sweat from your forehead. Then, you turned to Orion with a happy smile. 

“Good game,” You nodded, as though nothing had happened. Orion, well, Orion just stared. Hm. Maybe you’d been too hard on him. You decided to bring him to the fighting game floor next, because those were always easy. It wouldn’t be fair to take him on in games that you’d just instantly win at. 

“I’ll go easy on you,” You promised, taking a seat at the arcade machine opposite Orion. He flashed you a disarming smile, like he was made up of nothing but good nature and filtered water. 

“Thank you.”

You put the money in and selected your fighter, Aerael. Fighters of the Storm 2 was a really fun game, and maybe you’d played too much of it in high school. Whatever. You promised you’d go easy on Orion. When both of your little fighters came on screen, you cleared your head and focused on the controls. Ah, crap. It wasn’t like anyone actually knew the combos anyway. You randomly mashed the buttons, as did Orion, both of you dealing fair damage to the health bars until you finally managed to win.

“I won’t be so nice next time,” You warned. Orion hummed.

Round 2. You prepared to rush Orion, only for him to dodge, then grapple, then toss you into the sky and string a combo on your character that took out half your first health bar. You squawked, rushing to get an attack in, but Orion seemed to have anticipated your moves, so instead of a strike and a parry, all you got was a shield to the face and a super move to your HP. Your long range attacks were all deflected, your defenses destroyed, and when you finally gained the power to let out your super, Orion just...jumped over it before it hit. You shouted wordlessly as he destroyed your hero. 

It was best out of five. But, every time you did anything, Orion was there to counter. As the Total Loss screen flashed, you could only stare blankly, your mouth opened slightly in shock. He’d finessed you. He’d finessed you so hard and you didn’t even expect it. He played you like a damn fiddle. 

“Looks like I won this one,” Orion smiled sheepishly. You snapped your head over to him, as he stood to your side, and... well, you laughed, mostly. 

“I hate you,” You proclaimed, but the words lacked any real bite or meaning. Mostly, you’d deserved it, you think. You stood up next to Orion, clicking your tongue once in dismay. 

“Come on. Let’s go swing by the claw machines before we go,” You stated, grabbing Orion’s hand and leading him down the neon stairs. 

Ground floor and one above held the claw machines. Not normal claw machines, as they were Japanese. Technically, you should call them ‘UFO Catchers’. They had really cute prizes in every single one, and unlike American ones, you could actually win something. So obviously you were drawn right for the cute plush machine. Orion followed, watching as you dug out your money and stuffed it into the machine like a person with a problem. But you didn’t have a problem. Just because you really wanted to win one very badly didn’t mean you had a problem.

You still made sure not to set your left arm on the machine, just in case. 

“I’m gonna win this for us,” You decided, pointing to the plush...toaster. Thing. Might have been a toaster. Whatever it was, it was sure cute. You examined the machine from all angles, before carefully maneuvering the claw until it was near the plush. Then, gingerly, you pressed the button. The thing was so close, you’d have to get it at the first try, or–

The claw didn’t even come close to the plush.

“That,” You began, “Really bungles my bangles.”

You stuffed another dollar into the machine.

The same thing happened. Your arm whirred. Another dollar in the claw machine. 

“Are you alright?” Orion asked on your sixth dollar. You turned to him.

“I’m fine,” You smiled serenely, the side of the machine slowly groaning under the pressure of your left hand. Orion moved to stop you, only to stop himself as he heard the sound of a scuffle. It was coming from the side door of the arcade, which was propped open to let in air. Orion shot you an apologetic look.

“I’ll be right back”, He assured. You didn’t seem to notice, still too busy with your interrogation of the claw machine. 

Orion stepped outside, walking out of the side doors. A group of teenagers crowded around a single teenager, shouting various...things. Possibly insults, or grocery lists, in aggressive tones. The teen being shouted at looked like he wanted to curl up and disappear forever. Orion frowned, pushed back his shoulders, and strode over to the group.

“You three,” Orion frowned, voice terse, “What are you doing?”

The ringleader looked over. He looked like every delinquent student ever, gruff posturing and little else. Though, he was wearing a yellow bandana.

“None of your business,” Yellow Bandana snorted dismissively, crossing his arms. His two blue goons mimicked him with twin cries of “Yeah!”

“Any harm to another makes it my business,” Orion replied. The two goons let out double ‘oooohs’.

“Shut up, you two!” Yellow Bandana snapped, before returning his attention to Orion, “And you, too. Beat it. I’ve got beating to do.”

Briefly, Orion wondered what you would say in this situation. But he hazarded that it would be something along the lines of–

“Eat a dick!” You shouted from inside the arcade, and Orion smiled. That was about what he wanted to say as well. But, instead, he stepped closer to Yellow Bandana. 

“I’m going to ask you to leave this young man alone,” Orion stated, glancing over at the single teen still cowering. 

“Or what? You’re gonna lecture us?” Yellow jeered. The teen in the back tried to skunk away, only for Yellow Bandana to snatch him back, “Hey, nerderino, I ain’t done with you.”

“My name’s Steven,” The teen corrected, shaking slightly.

“What are you, a dictionary?” Yellow Bandana huffed, “Actually, if you’re so good at words, why did you make me fail my math test?”

Silence.

“Because you’re stupid,” Steven frowned. A chorus of ‘ooooooh’ from the goons and Yellow Bandana turned red.

“That’s it!” He shouted, reeling a fist back. Steve flinched. But, the punch never connected. Amidst a continuous stream of ‘oooooooooh’ from the Blue Squad, Orion stood, his hand on Yellow Bandana’s fist. The ringleader blanched.

“My name is Orion Pax,” Orion began, taking a page from you, “Do you know what Orion stands for?”

Steven piped up, “Oh, it could be loosely translated to hunter!”

“That’s right,” Orion continued to smile, but it was more dangerous now, and Yellow Bandana quickly realized his mistakes just as Orion readied himself, “It’s time for a history lesson.”

Yellow Bandana let out a very warbly cry of fear. As soon as Orion released him, he grabbed his two goons and sprinted from the area, not even stopping to grab his energy drink or large hat. At that point, Steven extracted himself from the wall, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Thanks,” He smiled weakly, leaning down to pick up his dropped bag, “You saved my bacon.”

Orion assumed that was an expression. 

“I’m glad you are safe,” Orion replied, “Will you be alright from here?” 

Steven nodded, “Yeah. I’m just waiting for my buddy.”

Then, he stopped, “Er, who?...”

Orion looked over.

“Oh my god, Onion, you won’t believe...” You trailed off, seeing Steven, “Oh. Stevie. How’s it hanging?”

Steve rose up to his considerably small height, “You still owe me two dollars!”

You pointed, “You’ll have to kill me for it!” 

Steve jutted out his chin in a way that could be best described as ‘mulish’, while you crossed your arms. Orion looked torn, but then you uncrossed your arms and laughed. Then, you cursed.

“Damn. Fine, here’s the money, don’t spend it all in one place,” You dug two dollars out, handing them over, “Next time I’ll get you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Steven rolled his eyes, smiling, “I gotta get back.”

“Tell Jimmy I said hi,” You teased, “And make sure he knows I called him Jimmy. That’s important.”

“‘Kay. Later!” Steve waved once, before walking away. Orion turned to you.

“Is...is this normal for humans?” Orion asked. 

“I’ve known Stevie since he was small. Well, smaller. We go to the same college,” You explained, “He’s gonna be an artist. Real nice kid.”

Orion made a noise of understanding.

“Well, we should get going to that cafe,” You stretched. You and Orion’s shoulders connected once again as you made your way down the street. 

“Hey,” You glanced over, “I saw what you did to help Stevie. Thanks. That was really brave of you.”

Orion found himself slightly glowing under the praise, and you continued, “I mean, I would’ve gone and helped, but I’m already banned from a few places because of beating those guys up. Usually James helps Steve, but he wasn’t here, so...thanks. Again. Big damn hero.”

Then, you sucked in a breath, gathered all the courage you’d collected from Orion’s endless supply, and turned to him, quietly and quickly muttering something to yourself. Then, a blink, and you’d pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“Heroes deserve a kiss. Even the ones that are nerds,” You muttered, quickly looking away. But you barely had time to feel embarrassed before Orion zoomed in and planted one on your cheek as well. You felt as red as your arm was painted.

“I did say you were a hero earlier,” Orion smiled cheekily. Your face only got redder.

“Let’s go get that limoncello from that cafe then!” You cleared your throat, before grabbing Orion’s hand and hurrying down the street. And still, you smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about naming you ‘Dance Pose’ because ‘I’m always posing a threat when I dance’ but it didn’t sound as killer as I wanted.  
> Little references peppered throughout the story. For a fun game, find them. Or don’t. I’m a busy guy, I can’t plan your adventures for you


	9. In The Pines

Another week. It only took a week, but your arm started...fighting back again. You still weren’t quite sure what exactly your relationship with Optimus was, if it was just something cute or maybe something super serious. You’d never been good at the whole relationship thing, and it seemed that neither was he. So, lots of awkward dancing around the issue. You’d deal with it eventually. But, more pressing was the fact that you’d almost taken out Agent Whitehill in practice earlier, before going on to dent Arcee’s plating when she’d intervened, and god, you felt like a dick. 

You needed to get out. That’s all you could do, really. But with Decepticon activity on the rise again, Optimus couldn’t spare the time to take you, and the city was too dangerous alone. Not to mention infested with Decepticons, or so the scanners said. That left...the forest, really. Not too close, but not too far away. Close enough that, in the event of an emergency, the Autobot base was only a ways away. But, you wouldn’t be going alone. No. You’d managed to convince Bumblebee to go with you, and to say you were excited would be an understatement. Sure, he was no Optimus, but...well, things were a little weird with Optimus right now. Some R&R with your favorite scout would do the trick. And by R&R you meant punching trees until you passed out. Bee could help. 

“It’ll be fine, Fred,” You assured, sitting on the edge of the bed and wiggling on some socks, “Honestly. It’s just a forest.”

Next came the pants, heavy duty and tear resistant. You scoffed at some imagined reply, “Bumblebee will be there.”

As you struggled into a tight tank top, you gasped, glaring at your tiny plant, “Frederick, don’t be a dick!”

Fred moved not a single centimeter. You snorted, finally pulling the tank over your head and going to grab a jacket, “I shoulda left you at the apartment.”

You spoke no words as you slid on your jacket, zipping it up halfway and straightening it out. But, as you laced up your boots, the silence finally became too much.

“Talking to a plant, maybe I am going crazy,” You groused, before shaking your head, using a quick tug to finish typing your shoes. Up you stood, puttering around your room for a little, before finally sighing.

“Listen, pal,” You trailed off, standing in front of the door, “I’ll be back. Don’t do anything stupid when I’m gone.”

You didn’t look back as you closed the door behind yourself. If you had, you would’ve noticed that Fred looked just the tiniest bit sadder as you left.

Bumblebee was waiting for you in the main area, sitting and chattering with Agent Whitehill. You rose your arm and called out to him. 

“Hey, Bee!” You greeted. He stopped and turned to you, brightening. Then he did a series of complex beeps which you liberally interpreted as a mega-hello. You made sure to give Agent Whitehill a hello as well. Optimus wasn’t in the room, and you felt an awkward mixture of relief and remorse. Ugh. Feelings.

“Are you feeling okay?” Agent Whitehill asked, concerned. You felt your face untwist from whatever constipated expression it had adopted, and instead cleared your throat.

“Yep!” You crackled, “I’m feeling great!”

Agent Connell slid into the room, “You look like shit.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you,” You retorted, crossing your arms.

Agent Whitehill, Agent Connell, and Bumblebee all shared a look. You bristled, then unbristled, furrowing your brow as you looked over at your agitated arm.

”I should probably head out soon,” You decided. Bumblebee nodded, moving to the other side of the room so he could transform. You turned to the two agents, apologetic, but they waved you off, and so you hurried over to Bumblebee, jumping into your seat. You clicked on the radio, glancing out the window, and resolved not to think about any troubling feelings for the rest of the trip.

Honestly. 

Your resolution held up for...a few hours. Mostly, you were staring out of tinted windows, watching the landscape roll past. It was overcast, but that was fine. One of the best things about the ride, however, was that Bee didn’t really ask questions, or prod. It let you stew on the issues, your arm clicking and shifting every now and again. 

“Hey, Bee,” You began, your eyes sliding over the approaching forest, “Do, uh, do you think Optimus...Well, you know him, and...”

You fumbled. And fumbled some more. Bumblebee waited patiently, but you couldn’t seem to get the words out. Oh, to Hell with it. 

“Would it work out? Us doing the whole dating thing,” You settled on, turning over your left hand and fiddling with the pads of the palm, “I mean, you know, not to sound twelve or anything, it’s just...”

Bumblebee made a sort of rumble. It might have been comforting, but you were flustered and tense and not sure why. The last time you’d had a crush on someone, you’d crushed their shoulder. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about that with Optimus, but maybe it would be the other way around. Or, maybe you’d read all the signals wrong. Like a blind man in a parking garage. And, and Optimus had been too nice to stop you, but now that it was past, he’d let you down gently; and, god, that would be awful. Just crush you at that point. 

Suddenly, a jolt. You blinked, realizing you’d arrived at your destination. Middle of the forest, to be specific, a clearing with a few rocks and was surrounded by trees. The radio played a comforting country tune, something about how everything would work out soon. You lightly patted the dashboard.

“Thanks,” You smiled, before unbuckling yourself and stepping out, letting Bumblebee transform. Even in his normal robotic form, he was only twice your height. In the light of the forest, his yellow and black armor almost seemed to blend in. You tilted your head, but your arm started hissing again, and so you clicked your tongue.

“Well, time to get punching,” You stretched, pivoting yourself to the nearest tree. You flashed your friend a grin as you took the proper stance, “Watch this.”

A breath. You pulled your left arm back, the plating shifting to expand, the quiet hiss of mechanisms powering up. Your hand clenched into a fist, and the power that built up forward your right side to tilt inwards, the tension reverberating through your frame. Then, with a shout, you released. Like the trigger of a gun, your arm shot forward, punching through the oak. The wood splintered and snapped, and the great tree fell backwards, collapsing into the forest with a groan and a cry. Over the new stump, you stood, sweating slightly but glowing with victory, the lightest bit of heat emanating from your arm.

“Not as good as boulders, but still pretty satisfying,” You rolled your shoulder, taking some of the weight off your spine for the moments. Bumblebee clapped at your display, and so you did a small spin and bowed, your grin cheeky. 

“Thank you, thank you,” You exaggerated, “A lovely audience. But,” You rose back up, “Do you think you can top that one?”

Bumblebee considered the challenge. Then, he walked forward, nodding. Your victorious grin flipped to one of challenge and glee, and you beckoned him forward with an, “After you.” 

Really, it was a wonder how you were both adults. For the next hour or so, the sounds of destruction overtook the forest, as if you had a bone to pick with nature and decided to send a message through the trees. Mostly, you were glad you picked one of the areas scheduled for a controlled burn later. Made you feel less bad for terrorizing the flora. Of course, eventually you grew tired. Around the time that you decided to take a breather, it started to rain. Barely a drizzle, really.

In retrospect, one could say that things started turning bad once it started raining. But, things definitely turned bad when the giant robots appeared. 

“What th–?” You scrambled backwards, your mind blaring the siren for danger at the sight of the purple platings. Decepticons. Why was it always Decepticons? Seriously, it was getting a little pretentious. Oh look at me, I’m a bad dude, I’m here to stop your life permanently.

You were rambling.

“Bumblebee!” You shouted, both a call and a warning, as he sprinted across the clearing towards you. Two purple robots dropped from the sky, cutting him off and clocking him in the face. A third appeared in front of you, aiming to scoop you up or something. But, you weren’t some random civilian in distress. In for a penny, in for a pound, and all that. With a roar, you reeled your arm back and punched, crunching the metal of the leg and causing the mech to falter. 

“Come on!” You demanded, squaring up, “I can do this all day!”

Giant robot took the bait. They rushed forward, and you threw yourself to the side, skidding through the now muddy ground. Then, up again, jumping their back legs. Specifically, the knobby bit near the back of the kneecaps. You punched, and they crumpled, like a sad little paper doll in the rain. With that done, you turned, running towards Bumblebee. You could see him, and you could see the various purple enemies he left in his wake, but there were still more, and he wasn’t looking too good. Damnit.

“Hey!” You yelled, sprinting and bringing your fist back. That got the attention of one of them, and you jumped as high as you could, before transforming the forward movement into a downward drop. Specifically, an elbow drop, one that connected nearish the chest and threw them downwards. You went with, your elbow slamming with your landing, the metal all deformed and burbling with a glowing neon blue liquid. You stood up with a heave, just in time to watch Bumblebee throw the other one across the clearing.

“Thanks,” You jumped off the...corpse. Hopefully not a corpse, actually, “We gotta go, let’s...”

Ah. Wait. Bumblebee made to stand back up to his full height, only to stop halfway, grasping at his side. There was more of that blue stuff. Blood, it must have been blood, or whatever constituted blood for Cybertronians. You quickly catalogued Bumblebee’s wounds, noting the leg and side, and, damnit, damnit to hell. You angrily pushed your wet hair back, out of your face, and felt the droplets that touched your arm disappear into steam. Bumblebee wasn’t in any shape to transform and escape.

“Okay. We can walk, Prime’ll be sending someone to find us,” You rambled, or babbled, pulling out the burner phone you had and trying to find Optimus’ number, “Come on, Come on- shit. No signal?” 

Your shaking hand almost dropped the phone, so you slid it back into your coat pocket and inhaled deeply, “We’re fine. We’re totally fine.”

You were not fine.

But the addition of a colossal silver robot certainly didn’t make anything better.

“Who’s that?” You squinted, your left side sagging and your chest on fire. The silver mech was all sharp edges, with terrible red eyes. Not terrible in the sense that they looked bad, but that they made the tiny monkey hindbrain in your skull scream warning signs. As if it was nature’s way of warning nearby creatures to stay away. And, shit, he was huge. Bigger than Optimus, and far bigger than you. He was about as tall as one of the trees around him, but if it was any consolation, you’d taken down trees bigger than he was for practice earlier. Bumblebee made a series of noises, the sounds lost in static, but he sounded...scared. 

“Well, whoever he is, I’m about to kick his ass,” You grunted, straightening yourself back out and squaring up. In for a penny, in for the whole goddamn bank, apparently. 

“Hey!” You shouted. The silver giant stopped menacing and looked directly at you. Which was _terrifying_ , actually, just grand.

“And who might you be?” The mech asked. You cleared your throat.

“I’m the person about to kick your ass!” You stated, before adding, “Who the hell are you?” Because it was the polite thing to do.

The ridiculously beefy, never-skipped-protein-shake-day robot laughed. You expected it to be as awful as every other one you’d heard from the Decepticons, but it was actually deceptively pleasant. Warm, gritty, like black coffee. You hated coffee. 

“You may call me Megatron, human,” ‘Megatron’ smiled. It was not a pleasant smile by any means, far too many teeth. Well. All the better for punching, right? But then he stopped smiling, and looked at your arm, “And I believe you have something that belongs to me.” 

You grit your teeth. Instead of a reply, you brought your arm back, preparing to punch– 

Only for it to not work. You blinked, the realization settling in, along with the wall of fatigue. Shit. The arm vented excess heat, steam rolling off in waves, as it lay uselessly at your side. You wouldn’t be able to punch a pebble, much less a gigantic evil robot. 

Okay. New plan. You were good at improvising. After all, you’d been improvising your entire life. 

You slid the phone back out of your pocket, checking the signal. None. But, if you got yourself some time, you might be able to force a signal and get a message through to Optimus. A glance over at Bumblebee, revealing that he was still in no shape to fight. You couldn’t just run away and leave him with Megatron. Well, if Megatron wanted your arm so badly, he could come and take it then. You took a preparatory step back, your boots digging into the mud as you prepared to damn yourself.

“You’ll have to come and take it, then,” You spat. Then, with a final, somewhat regretful look at Bumblebee, you ran. You could hear a deep, echoing laugh behind you.

“With pleasure!” Megatron roared. His footsteps shook the forest, but hey, at least he was chasing you and not killing your friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Violence solves most problems, except for the ones where it makes it worse  
> The size difference in this is basically you’re the size of a housecat.


	10. Killed Everything But My Shame

Running through a muddy forest, with the rain howling past, definitely wasn’t your definition of a good time. Your chest was heaving with the breaths you took, your eyes wild, your phone held out in front of yourself as you tried to get a signal please for the love of god. Megatron’s thundering footsteps were still close behind you, but he never could gain enough ground to actually grab you, as you wove through the thickets of trees. Occasionally, you’d skid in the mud, rarely falling over and frantically bouncing back up. It left you covered in mud, grime, and general plant stuff. Just like the time you met Optimus. Hm. 

“Little human, there’s no need to run,” Megatron called, almost sickeningly calm. You would’ve preferred maniacal laughter. 

“Piece of shit,” You huffed, shaking the phone hard, pushing your wet hair back out of your face, “Come on, come on!” 

The ground shook again. You stumbled, before coming face to face with the downward slope of a hill. You shot a frantic glance behind yourself, and, yep, Megatron was right there, still coming at you like all of your childhood fears. Without sparing a moment, you scrambled forward, throwing yourself down. Except, it wasn’t a hill, it was a cliff. You had a disturbing trend of underestimating distances, maybe you’d get your eyes checked if you ever made it out of the forest alive. 

You fell. Your right hand clutched the phone, holding it so tightly that it cut your palm. With your left, you shot into the side of the cliff, digging your arm in and slowing your messy descent. Exposed edges of rocks left bloody strips across your body, while your left arm made really worrying noises and groans, until it was too much for even a robotic arm and out it went. Thankfully, by then the ground was close, though what constituted as close was relative, as you rolled and tumbled the rest of the way, denting your arm and destroying any semblance of dignity you had left.

“Fuck.”

You blearily rose your head. Through the curtain of messy hair, and the pelting water across your entire everything, not to mention the mud that you laid in and the throbbing of your wounds, well... life could be better. Worrying, extremely worrying, was that your left arm wasn’t moving. It made a series of uncomfortable squeals, until you managed to jam some plates back in and unjam some rocks. Even then, it wasn’t pretty. But hey, good news was that your phone had one bar. That was great news, actually. 

With effort, you forced yourself to your knees, then up to your feet, letting the rain wash over you and hopefully take some of the blood with it. Your hand shook as you selected Optimus’ number, thumb clicking the call button and cautiously raising it to your ear.

“Pick up,” You whispered, staring blankly out at the forest, “Pick up.”

The phone rang. And rang. And rang once more.  
“I’m sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is unavailable right now.”

He didn’t pick up. 

Okay. You weren’t going to cry or anything, because that was for weak people, and weak people didn’t punch robots or jump off cliffs or sometimes sit alone in bed at night and wish their life was normal. 

“Hey, Optimus,” Your voice cracked. You could hear, distantly, the sound of a plane overhead, and the faintest squelching of mud under tires. You knew, deep in your heart, that you weren’t going to make it outta the woods. 

“So. It’s pretty bad out here right now,” You began, “Uh, my arm is kind of fucked up, and I think I have a concussion,” You shook your head, “Definitely have a concussion, actually.” 

The sounds of the plane and car steadily grew louder.

“And I might not make it out of here,” You inhaled, “This isn’t really what I wanted our last conversation to be, but, life’s coffee and all that.”

You could see a brief glimpse of purple in the forest, if you squinted through the rain.

”I tried to lead them away from Bumblebee, so here’s hoping he survived,” You exhaled, like a little laugh, except all wrong and crackled. That was definitely purple, getting closer, the sound of a plane landing nearby, “I fought someone named Megatron. Not sure who he was, but he’s a dick. Sorry I didn’t win.”

The sound of heavy footsteps. You looked around, seeing two purple robots emerging from the trees. 

“I’m sorry about a lot of things, actually,” You hurried, holding the phone a little tighter, as the Decepticons slowly came to stand in front of you, “But, most of all, I’m sorry I never said that I–“

The phone cut off. Anti climatic, the rainwater and dirt and tumble from a cliff finally catching up to the thing.

“Huh...” You trailed off to the dead air. You looked down at the phone, before dropping it into the mud, returning your gaze to the two purple lads. One was skinnier than the other, two wings on his back, whereas the other had thicker armor and wheels on the sides.

“You’re not Megatron,” You grunted, frowning, before pulling your arm back, “But I’ll kick your ass anyway.”

“After you, Shiftdrive,” The one that looked more like a plane stated.

“By all means, Backflight, you first,” Shiftdrive retorted. Nonetheless, both brought out their weapons, staring down at you with a mix of curiosity and drive. God, you just wanted to go home. Life was simpler back then. Didn’t have to worry about fighting robots in a forest at spooky o’clock in the afternoon. Whatever. 

Your arm, already heated, began to perform a special move: steam. But, not just steam. Instead, it rapidly began to boil the humidity and the rain in the area, turning all of that into steam too, until the clouds were too thick to see through. You’d learned it on accident while taking a shower. 

Well, you hoped it gave you some kind of advantage, because it was the only move you had to work with, aside from possibly still weakened punching. You’d try anything once. 

Footsteps to your left. Instead of powering your punch up, you opted to use the natural weight of the arm to try and cause damage that way. Which really meant that you flung yourself towards the footsteps, like throwing a rock across a pond, except that you were the rock and the pond was on fire. Thankfully, your plan worked, and you definitely hit something, maybe even denting it. Whoever you hit, though, wasn’t happy. 

“Scrap!” The voice shouted. You twisted, jumping out of the way of a reaching hand. Instead, you decided to test your luck with a real punch. You leaned back, forcing power into your left arm, and–

You blinked, looking up from your place on the muddy ground, dimly aware that your entire side felt like it was on fire. That didn’t work. You barely had the time to try and stand up, think of some new plan, when a hand swooped down and yanked you up. You felt like a rag doll, actually, which wasn’t very pleasant, the hand mostly encompassing your torso.

“Gotcha,” Shiftdrive smirked, before frowning, “Scrap. Backflight, I think their arm broke.”

Backflight appeared, grabbing your left arm and giving it a quick glance, “Primus, Shift, what’d you do to the human?”

“They hit you first!” Shiftdrive retorted, “Look, let’s get them back to Megatron, and–“

“Lord Megatron,” Backflight corrected.

“Lord Megatron,” Shift rolled his eyes, “And then we’ll see what we can do.”

You took the chance to try and escape, thrashing and twisting around in the grip. You didn’t get very far, and honestly, you were still really tired from punching those trees, so you wouldn’t have even gotten far if you did get out. 

“Eat a dick,” You spat, before slumping over in the hand and spacing out. Trying to regain your strength, mostly. If they were taking you back to Megatron, you still had a chance to escape. You’d just have to be selective with your punching. 

...

“Back so soon?” 

You shook yourself back into focus, clearing the bright spots from your vision which definitely meant you had a concussion of some kind. Megatron swam into view, the vicious and triumphant set of his face. You resisted the urge to lash out immediately, biding your time. After all, you probably only had one shot. Instead, you let your left arm hand limp, contorting your face and squirming. While that drew everyone’s attention, you glanced to your right, seeing Bumblebee. He wasn’t exactly fine, but he was still alive, and it seemed he’d also attempted his own escape. With about as much success as your own.

“Lord Megatron, the Autobot arm on the human appears to have...malfunctioned?” Backflight stated. Megatron frowned, looking at the dangling red arm and leaning in slightly. Then, he glanced away, looking over to Backflight. With his attention gone, you took the excess power you’d been charging and pushed it outwards. The flying fist should have hit Megatron in the face. Instead, he sidestepped, looking not the least bit surprised. In fact, if anything, he looked pleased.

“Ha! The human is a fighter,” He peered at you. You lunged forward again, but didn’t get far. Like sour milk left in the fridge, Megatron’s grin grew darker, “I’d hate to waste such promise.”

He made to grab you, only for something to stop him. The sound of a digital signal, coming from Bumblebee. You brightened as you realized that he must have gotten through to Optimus, but that excitement was short lived. Nearly instantly in response, Megatron pulled out some kind of canon. He pointed it directly at Bumblebee, and before you could ever shout, he’d fired. It wasn’t the slight pew that the other Decepticon weapons had, but a concussive blast, pure energy shot outwards. The glow hit Bumblebee right in the chest, and he fell backwards, his lights dimming. You felt your heart stutter, the sickly feeling of adrenaline flash-freezing in your stomach at the sight of the blue blood. 

“Bumblebee!” You hollered, renewing your thrashing, a mixture of trying to escape and trying to break Megatron’s face off, “You son of a bitch!”

Megatron seemed to grit his teeth, obviously annoyed, but not directed at you. 

“You,” Megatron pointed at Backflight, “Take the human back to base. I want them unharmed.”

“Of course, Lord Megatron,” Backflight hurried to take you from his companion, while you continued to hiss and struggle, taking swipes at him and nearly vibrating with rage. Backflight made sure to hold you like a baby who’d made a stinky. 

“And you,” Megatron directed his attention to Shiftdrive, “Take care of this...Autobot. I have a Prime to intercept.”

Shiftdrive saluted sharply. Megatron didn’t spare another glance back, before transforming and rushing out of the forest. You continued to scream as loud as you could, which was really loud.

“Bumblebee!” You thrashed, feeling all sorts of useless. If you were such a goddamn hero, why couldn’t you save your friend? “Let me go, you bastards!”

Backflight cringed as you kicked him, but didn’t flinch, only directing his attention to Shiftdrive, “...I’ll wait for you back at base.” 

Shiftdrive stared awkwardly at Bumblebee, a blaster held out, but nodded, “Yeah. Be there soon.”

Backflight quickly transformed, taking on the appearance of a fighter jet, tucking you into the backseat. You yanked on the seatbelts, growing out a steady stream of curses. Over the sound of the engines starting, you almost didn’t hear the firing of a blaster. But you did, and the pit in your stomach turned into a ravine. It wasn’t as awful as the first time you woke up and realized you’d lost your arm and friend, but it came pretty close.

“I’ll kill you!” You promised, slamming your fists into the control panel, “I’ll kill every one of you!”

Well. Maybe not every one, but you’d try your damn best. 

Instead of a reply, Backflight only secured your arms back, before finally taking off to the sky. Your blood curdled with rage, and as the forest disappeared below, you roared. 

Heroes were good people. Like Optimus, or Bumblebee, or Captain America. You weren’t sure if you were a hero. But, you were someone with a very large fist, and a vendetta to work through. 

What that made you, you didn’t know. But you also didn’t care. There were very few situations that couldn’t be improved with violence, and by god, you were about to violence the heck out of these guys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hobbies include: falling from high places, cursing, punching


	11. Call Me Mr. Rattlebone

Ironically, the first thing they did was take your ability to violence. Or rather, you awoke in a cage, having fallen asleep sometime after screaming some more. And with the bars, and your malfunctioning arm, you were effectively useless. 

“Ugh,” You groaned awake, unsticking your face from the bars. They left red indents in your skin, but that wasn’t really the top of your concerns. Mostly, you were worried about the fact that you couldn’t seem to move your left arm. Sure, the bruises and torn muscles were also a large concern, but you liked your arm. It was great. Without it, you’d have no hope of breaking out. Speaking of out, though, where exactly were you? 

Conversations filtered into focus. 

“–sure about it,” Shiftdrive shrugged. He was the one holding your...containment cell, it seemed.

“Shift,” Backflight hissed, “You know what’ll happen if–“

“I know,” Shiftdrive interrupted, calm, “But he won’t.”

“Like the Pit he won’t,” Backflight growled. You narrowed your eyes.

“What’re you guys talkin’ about?” You asked. You held a special disdain for vague conversations. At your voice, both bots turned to look at you.

“The human is awake,” Shiftdrive stated.

“I can see that,” Backflight rolled his eyes, “Hello, human.”

You’d correct them, but you didn’t really care, “Hey. What’s going on?”

“We’re transporting you to Knock Out to get your arm removed,” Backflight explained, and before you could even let out a startled noise, he continued, “And, we’re here, actually.” 

“Woah hey,” You backpeddaled, “How about...we don’t do this.”

“They’re scared,” Shiftdrive leaned down, peering at you.

“Eat a dick,” You snapped.

“And they’re swearing,” Shiftdrive looked back to Backflight.

“I would be scared too, if I had to go to Knock Out,” Backflight shifted his wings. Your eyes went wide as the door opened and harsh light flooded out. A medical bay. Stark and sterile, the opposite of the somewhat comforting one Ratchet worked in. Hoo boy.

“Yes?” A pleasant drawl called, somewhere from the back of the room, “Breakdown, if that’s you, I...Oh. Hello.”

A red mech stood in front of you. Cherry red, like a sports car. In fact, that seemed to be what his armor was intended to mimic. A ridiculously polished and flawless sports car. If he was a human, you imagined he’d be a supermodel. He even had the look down, slight raised eyebrow and somewhat disdainful twist of the mouth. 

“Two more patients, I take it?” He ventured, wiping off his hands with a cloth. Was that blood? Oh god it totally was. 

“No, Meg–“

Backflight stepped on Shiftdrive’s foot.

“–Lord Megatron said to bring this human to you,” Shiftdrive explained. You assumed the red robot was Knock Out, the one mentioned earlier. 

Knock Out frowned, “Well, What do you want me to do with–“ He stopped. Then, a slightly understanding look, “Oh. I suppose he wants me to dissect it?” 

You bristled and blanched, both in the same action. 

“No, no,” Backflight hastened to interject, moving your cage around, “They have an Autobot arm that needs dealt with, he said.”

Against your wishes, the turning of the cage did pretty much show off Red. It stood in sharp contrast to the mud and dirt of your clothes. Knock Out’s face shifted into something approaching glee.

“Now this is a surprise,” He examined you, then backed off, “Put the cage down over there. I’ll prep my work station.”

Shiftdrive set you down on the table, while you scrambled around, trying to find a way out. The bars didn’t bend, and even as hard as you tried, your left arm refused to move. That just left you with the desperate third option: fear.

“I’m afraid we’ll have to remove that arm of yours,” Knock Out stated, coming back over to you, “Though you might not survive the operation.”

“That is, in fact, the opposite of what I want,” You stammered. But around the same time, Shiftdrive spoke up.

“Woah, er, Knock Out. Lord Megatron specified that the human be unharmed,” He hastened to add. Knock Out’s excited smile shifted a few inches, but he still looked pretty hyped about the whole thing. Unlike you.

“Alright,” He nodded, “But the arm still needs to go. I suppose I’ll have to run a few tests first instead,” He sighed, before walking over to a large computer, typing some things in. A minute passed, before a small beam of light was shot at you. You flinched, but it passed over you harmlessly. A scanner, you realized. Once the thing was finished, the computer pinged.

“Oh. Now that isn’t good,” Knock Out whistled, low and deep. He brought the images up higher, before turning to the three of you, “It seems that the arm was built into the human’s systems. Removing the thing could kill it.”

“I like being alive,” You assured. 

“Not to mention the arm is completely wrecked,” Knock Out tsked, staring at you quizzically, “What did you even do?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, nurse boy,” You shot back. You could hear the sound of Shiftdrive suppressing a snort, but Knock Out only rose an eyebrow.

“Why do I get the feeling you and Breakdown would get together perfectly,” He drawled. Then, he returned his attention to your two main companions, “I need to do some basic repairs, but after that, I recommend going to Soundwave.”

“Yessir.”

“Now, this might hurt a little,” Knock Out stated as he walked back to your cage, “But it shouldn’t hurt too badly.”

You felt that that statement wasn’t entirely accurate. 

 

You weren’t sure how long it took. Maybe less than an hour. When Knock Out said it shouldn’t hurt (much), you realized he was probably lying. But thankfully, it was your left arm, so you didn’t actually feel anything. Which apparently was abnormal. Knock Out mentioned offhandedly that he’d have to reactivate the sensors sometime, which you weren’t feeling desperately keen on.

“But, aside from that, it’s all done,” Knock Out stated, wiping off his hands. You frowned, but didn’t say anything. Instead, you secretly relished the ability to move your arm again. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was still nice to have it back. 

“Thank you,” Backflight nodded, handing your cage off to Shiftdrive. Knock Out waved you all out, and the two began to walk down the halls. Backflight’s wings were high strung, twitching occasionally. Maybe he was agitated.

You knew you shouldn’t ask. But you felt a little bad. Just a touch. And also, curiosity, your most damning trait. 

“What’s wrong?” You prodded, sitting on the floor of your mobile containment cell. Backflight glanced down at you.

“You’re awfully calm for an organism that’s been kidnapped,” Backflight noted.

“And you’re avoiding the question,” You scratched your shoulder, careful with the scar tissue, “Are you upset about me making fun of your paint job? I’m not gonna apologize, but it’s true.”

“What– No, maybe, but mostly no,” Backflight crossed his arms.

“He’s mad cause we have to go see Soundwave,” Shiftdrive explained lightly, almost teasing.

“Shifty,” Backflight hissed, “Don’t talk to the prisoner.”

“You were literally just speaking to them,” Shiftdrive retorted, “I was there.”

“You’re...incorrigible!”

“That’s not a word. Stop making words to insult me,” Shiftdrive frowned.

“You–“

“Why is he mad about Soundwave?” You interrupted, growing tired and hungry but mostly tired. You paused, “Also. I’m hungry.”

“He had a crush on Soundwave once, but Soundwave’s bird made fun of him,” Shiftdrive smirked.

“That bird is a saboteur and a menace,” Backflight hissed.

“Sure. Say, what do humans eat?” Shifrdrive looked at you. You blinked.

“Food.”

“Okay, but what kind.”

“Edible food.

“Okay, but–“

“And we’re here!” Backflight announced. Loudly. He glared daggers at you both. The door slid open, and they both stepped in. You shielded your eyes against the light, squinting. It was purple and dark, with the occasional light blue thrown in. It was pretty, it what you were trying to say. Given your information, you suspected that was Soundwave standing at the console near the back of the room. He didn’t turn to greet you, but a small mechanical bird did. With lots of screaming. Just like home.

“Primus,” Backflight ducked out of the way of the bird’s path. At that, Soundwave did turn around. He looked at you, you think. It was hard to tell, what with the mask and all. 

“Request: reason for visit,” Soundwave stated. His voice was...a voice. Maybe lots of voices, or maybe just a synthesizer. Either way, if he wasn’t evil, you’d think it was the coolest thing. 

“Lord Megatron sent us,” Shiftdrive sorta maybe lied, but only a little.

“Affirmative, data sent ahead of time. Objective: extract codes from arm,” Soundwave stepped over to you, plucking your cage out of Shiftdrive’s hands. 

“I don’t feel safe,” You muttered. No one noticed. Or rather, Soundwave likely didn’t care, Backflight was busy dodging the bird, and Shiftdrive was still surprised you’d been snatched up like a stork reverse-delivering a baby. 

Quickly, Soundwave attached several wires to your arm. You were a little glad you couldn’t feel pain in that part, because the electrical connections being fed into it probably didn’t have comfort in mind. If Knock Out was being gentle, then Soundwave just didn’t care. 

After a few minutes of you awkwardly staring at the wires, the screen buzzed angrily. The language was still foreign, but the red was universal: access denied. Probably. The wires were removed from your arm, and Soundwave stepped back to the computer.

“Data mining incomplete,” Soundwave informed. He rapidly began to type away, and his pet bird landed on his shoulder. The red on the screen disappeared, replaced by the previous blue and purple, “Return later.”

Shiftdrive took the opportunity to bounce over, scooping you up like a rock and carefully depositing you into your cage. Well, at least with your arm working, you could try to salvage the situation. Nothing a good punch couldn’t fix. But as Shiftdrive picked your cage back up and he left the room with Backflight, a situation that couldn’t be solved by punching appeared:

Starscream.

Which is to say, that giant robot you’d punched the first time you escaped. And he definitely recognized you. You could tell by the slight slant of his...optics, and the way his wings shifted. Almost immediately, Shiftdrive’s grip on your cage tightened.

“Transporting the human, I take it?” Starscream simpered, stepping closer. He had no right being that tall and also lanky. 

“Yes, Lord Starscream,” Backflight nodded, “We were just getting ready to take them back to Lord Megatron’s chambers.”

“Were you now?” Starscream smiled. He made a show of examining the cage, before standing back up to his full height, “Then, allow me to take it off your servos.”

Ohh no. There was no way that would end well for you.

“We’re fine,” Shiftdrive stated, tapping the bars once, “Just a short walk.”

“I must insist,” Starscream narrowed his stare, and Shiftdrive rose up to the challenge. Backflight looked back and forth between the exchange with visible worry, while you watched in intrigue.

“Yeah, I have to decline,” Shift tucked you under his arm, like a football.

“That’s a direct order,” Starscream hissed.

“That’s a direct order,” You parodied mockingly, because you had no sense of self preservation.

“Quiet!” Starscream snapped. 

“And our orders are from Lord Megatron himself,” Shiftdrive informed, almost primly. A moment of silence, before Starscream growled and reached out to snatch your cage up. At the movement, Shiftdrive darted back. Both locked eyes, before Shiftdrive turned around and started running. Starscream’s disbelief was audible, but he didn’t move to chase. You could hear Backflight apologizing, before he too followed after Shiftdrive. 

Down the halls you went. Each one looked virtually identical, and also you didn’t care, as Shiftdrive sprinted like a champ and Backflight cursed him out. 

“Shiftdrive!” He finally shouted once you’d all stopped, “What were you thinking?” 

“I wasn’t,” He shrugged, somewhat apologetic.

“We have to take the human back to Lord Megatron’s chambers,” Backflight sighed, his hand on his face, “We’re not even on the right side of the sector.”

“I don’t want to,” Shiftdrive stated, stubborn, “I don’t trust Starscream.”

“Primus, Shifty, you can’t just say that you don’t trust the second in command.”

“Well, I just did.” He hugged your cage closer, “Think of the children.”

“I’m not a child, but I definitely don’t trust starscream,” You intoned.

“See? They agree with me.”

“...Okay. Fine. Let’s just get them back before Lord starscream realizes what just happened and has us offlined.”


	12. Are We Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. So, instead of this story containing some of the NSFW, I moved it to a seperate story. Reasons: it didn’t really fit the tone. I still had to write it, as this was a commission, so simply click [ THIS LINK HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309322) to view the nsfw mess of Megatron. Not canon with the story itself, obviously.

Something no one ever says about being kidnapped: it’s boring. 

You weren’t sure how long you’d been with the Decepticons, but you’d guess around two days. And in those two days, you really discovered just how boring aliens could be. When you weren’t sitting in your cell in Megatron’s room and staring at a wall, you were sitting in Soundwave’s room staring at a wall. Or, even better, sitting in Knock Out’s medical room staring at a wall. Megatron would sometimes just sit and look at you, like he was in on some secret. Or maybe that was just his face. Any attempt at insults or fights with him with just met with laughter, which you were about ten dollars sure meant he thought you were just hilarious. Not exactly what you were going for. 

The collar was definitely a bit much. You were fine with being kidnapped, but having to wear a weird electrical collar? It was weird and bulky and made your neck all sorts of irritated, no matter how much you struggled with it. Wasn’t it enough that you were kept in a glorified cage? Granted, it was a fairly nice cage, but still. 

At least they remembered to feed you. Or rather, Backflight and Shiftdrive remembered to feed you. You weren’t sure where they kept getting the food from but you felt it involved a terrified delivery truck driver and some unfortunate accidents. 

One thing you did predict, however, was the emotional reaction delay. It had happened before when you lost your friend and your arm, taking a week before you really realized that, holy shit, they’re gone. With Bumblebee, you gave yourself a few days. And you were right, because the day you prophesied, you woke up in a funk that stunk and suddenly everything was awful. Bumblebee was dead. It was all your fault that he was dead.

So you cried. Whatever. People cry all the time. Maybe you were just a little sad that one of your friends was murdered, okay? Was that fine?

Megatron didn’t seem to think so.

“What did you do to them?” Megatron snapped, having cornered Backflight and Shiftdrive when they passed by the room to deliver your food. Shiftdrive squinted uncomfortably.

“Uhh. Feed them, Lord Megatron,” Shiftdrive explained.

“Something is wrong with them, and I don’t think you’re as blameless as you seem,” Megatron growled. Shiftdrive shrunk. Backflight took the opportunity to speak up.

“They’re sad, my lord,” Backflight informed, glancing over to you. You rose your head up slightly, frowning. 

“Oh?” Megatron rose an eyebrow, “Explain.”

“Humans are social creatures. Without socialization, even the strongest become depressed,” Backflight informed. You were moderately certain that that wasn’t the reason you were upset, but then Backflight sorta looked at you and winked, and you felt somewhat more confused than earlier. What was he planning?

“Hm,” Megatron grunted, staring at you. You glared back, before Megatron turned away, “I won’t have the strongest of humans suffer from such weakness,” He spat. He stomped out of the room, with the shout of, “Soundwave! Report to the bridge!”

Then, he gestured for Backflight and Shiftdrive to follow. The three of them disappeared from view, and you blinked for a moment. 

“Huh.”

Then, you went back to moping in the corner of your cell. Bleh.

 

 

One more day passed. You felt a little listless, just sitting and staring at walls. Did Optimus even know you were gone? Well, obviously he did, but the real question was if he cared. You’d killed Bumblebee, after all. Optimus probably felt it was better to just get rid of you. Like throwing out a plant with mites on it, really.

Oh. You really hoped someone was taking care of Fred in your absence. Agent Whitehill probably would, or maybe they were all laughing at you and leaving little Fred to perish. You frowned and hunched more in on yourself at the thought. Didn’t even bother looking up when the door opened. It was probably Shiftdrive, here to take you to one of the many tests of the day. 

“Something the matter?” Megatron asked. That made you look over, if only by surprise, your arm clicking and shifting. You squinted, and your reply was a huff. 

“Since you’ve been such an excellent guest,” Megatron began, voice calm but black coffee to you, “Would you like a friend to visit?”

There was the smile, too many teeth, a frankly unrealistic amount of teeth for any one person. You stretched yourself back out, forcing yourself to your feet so you could fully glare. As always, your stance was slightly tilted.

“No,” You bristled, “And also, fuck you,” You pointed. Megatron just laughed, like every other time, like you were just so damn amusing. 

“Shiftdrive! Bring them in,” Megatron shouted. The door opened again, and Shiftdrive entered, another cage in his hands. You pressed yourself against the bars of your own, gritting your teeth, willing your left hand to snap the metal like toothpicks. 

It didn’t work. All that really happened was that your arm clicked a few times and the bar dented somewhat. If you had more power or time, you could try and force it, but...

You didn’t. You loosened your grip, but kept against the bars, trying to menace. Shiftdrive gave you an awkward look as he opened the cage, picking something out of it, before opening the roof of yours and gently setting whatever it was down inside. As his hand left, you finally got a good view of what he’d placed.

“Wha– Stevie?” Your voice cracked. Your arm made a pretty valiant attempt to scream in excitement using only fans and plates shifting, at least until you absently smacked it, still staring in disbelief.

“Bwah?” Stevie managed, still obviously disorientated. His clothes were splotched with dried smudges of paint, his fingers stained with charcoal. He must’ve been in the middle of an art project when they...kidnapped him? Why would they do that? What? 

Megatron must have sensed your confusion, or maybe he just liked to hear himself talk, “Backflight and Shiftdrive informed me of your ‘friends’. It was easy enough to find one, with the aid of Soundwave,” Megatron smiled, “I hope you enjoy.”

“I’ll show you ‘enjoyment’,” You retorted automatically, your voice without its usual bite. Megatron chuckled again, before leaving the room, waving Shiftdrive to follow. That just left you alone with your friend, a staring contest where the winner only won more confusion. After a few minutes, Stevie managed to regain himself, calming down enough to just...keep staring, mostly. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, eyeing the room, picking at the thread of his sleeves. 

“I was kidnapped by giant alien robots,” You explained. A pause, “Well, we were kidnapped. We are kidnapped. Present tense together.”

“But why?” Steve yanked on a thread, “Seriously. I haven’t even had my coffee this morning. I’m half convinced I fell asleep at my desk and I’m having a weird dream.”

“I’m flattered that you think you’d dream of me,” You rose an eyebrow, resting your head on your metal hand, “But I’m gonna have to say this is pretty real.”

“That’s just what a dream would say,” Stevie stated, slanting his eyes. You tapped your chin with your finger, before crouching down.

“Hey buddy.”

“What?”

“And so you hit him lightly on the shoulder. 

“Ow, Jesus crispy crackers, okay,” Stevie rubbed his shoulder, like he’d just bit into a lemon. You hummed, dropping your feet out from under yourself and plopping down onto the ground. Stevie shuffled a little bit closer to you, while you danced your fingers across the floor.

“So,” You began, “That guy I was with before. The buff guy,” You glanced over at Steve to make sure he was paying attention.

“Orion,” Stevie nodded for you to continue.

“Yeah. So, a week ago, I was kidnapped for a first time.”

“By Orion?” 

“No, by someone named Starscream.”

“Okay, I think I follow,” Stevie furrowed his brow.

“And Starscream was one of the giant robots you just saw. There’s two sides,” You brought up both hands, “Good, which is Orion, called the Autobots,” You shook your left hand, “And evil, these dudes we’ve been captured by, the Decepticons,” You shook the right.

“I thought Orion was human?”

“Sometimes they have holograms. That’s not important right not,” You dropped one hand and used the other to wave Steve off, “What’s important is that Orion, also known as Optimus Prime, is the leader of the Autobots. The big guy you just saw? That’s Megatron. He’s the leader of the Decepticons.”

Stevie rubbed his face with his hands, getting charcoal all over it.

“Optimus saved me the first time, kind of, but then I’m a dumbass and got captured a week later. And I guess Megatron thought I was _sad_ ,” You parodied, “So he, uh, kidnapped you. And here we are.”

“Right. Okay, hold on,” Stevie started counting off on his fingers, “Why did they kidnap you in the first place?”

You fingergunned, with the left specifically, “My arm.”

“What do they want you to do with it, destroy a statue?” Steve drawled.

“Okay that was like, one time,” You defended, “And, no, smartass. It’s because my arm has some kinda secrets in it.”

“Well, how did they capture you a second time, then?” Stevie rose an eyebrow, “Not enough punching?”

“Big words, coming from someone who gets beat up all the time,” You reflexively retorted. Then, a pause, and your face fell, “It’s...well. It was my fault. I got someone killed.” 

Steve flinched, but instead of wasting a moment to try and backpedal, he closed the distance and hugged you. He was nice like that.

“No, it’s fine,” You attempted, “It’s fine. I just killed someone, and it’s my fault, because I’m such a piece of shit.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Stevie squeezed harder, “You’re one of the best people I know. James even was the one to suggest we go looking for you to begin with.”

That made you pause, and Stevie pulled back, while you blinked, “Jimmy? He did?”

Stevie giggled lightly at the dumb nickname, “Yeah. He got really worried when he didn’t hear from you for a while,” And Steve’s expression sobered, “Crap. He’s probably freaking out right now since he can’t find me.”

“Oh?” You propped your head up, a go on motion. 

“He’ll probably go and ask his moms for help, which never ends well,” Stevie flopped onto his back.

“Which one? The government one or the ‘government’ one”, You smiled a little.

“Both.”

“Oh,” You blinked. Ms. Sato and Ms. Marston were both really dedicated, and if their son said something was wrong, they’d probably tear up half the country to get to it. Actually, “Maybe they’ll be able to contact the Autobots. There were some Agents with them when I was there.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Stevie went back to picking at the threads of his jacket. More silence. 

“Are your parents worried?” You prodded, feeling a little awkward for the question.

“Dad might be away on business, but Mom will probably start freaking out soon,” Steve considered it, “I mean, last I checked they were just getting back from Japan. How about your parents?”

“Yeah,” You lied, “Same.”

You stretched back out, looking at the door then back to Stevie, “Hey. I have a plan to escape.”

“Oh?” Stevie perked up, “Tell me.”

“My arm can break those bars in about a day,” You flexed it, letting the components whirr, “So. I break the bars. Then, with your help, I break this collar. After I’m done with that, we...run. Until we get to an exit,” You gestured, “And then you hold onto my back and I jump out.”

“You say jump out,” Stevie furrowed his brow, “Are we...not on the ground? Are we in space?” 

“We’re in the sky, probably near a forest. Don’t worry. I jumped out of one last time and it was fine,” You assured. 

“This plan is half-baked, but a plan is better than no plan,” Stevie decided, “So, now we just wait, I guess?–“

Knock knock. It was fate. You felt your face twist as the door opened and Megatron stepped back in. Time was a difficult thing to keep a hold on when you were being kept in captivity, but how long had it been? Long enough, apparently. Maybe it was time for you to go and get examined by doctor bad touch.

“Times up, I’m afraid,” Megatron smiled. Shiftdrive and Backflight stood behind him, and he gestured to Stevie, “Now what should we do with...him?”

No one answered. You’d gone back to standing up threateningly, as if that had worked against the giant robot last time. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Megatron considered, “Maybe we should just kill him.”

“No!” You barked. 

“Did you hear something?” Megatron looked over at Backflight, “No matter.”

Megatron reached over and plucked Stevie from the cage, holding him aloft. You slammed against the cage bars, trying to force more power into your arm, hearing it heat up in protest. Megatron snorted and tossed Stevie to Backflight. Backflight scrambled to catch him, letting him land gently in outstretched hands. 

“You fuck!” You snarled, “No!”

Megatron stared at Backflight and Shiftdrive dismissively, “Deal with the... pest.”

“Yes, Lord Megatron,” Backflight nodded, bringing Stevie closer, “I will.”

You were rattling the cage with your attempts to punch, but it didn’t produce anything. Megatron just smiled patiently and waved the two Decepticons off, letting your screams of rage fill the room. 

“Now, don’t be like that,” Megatron laughed, looking entirely too pleased, “You got what you wanted, didn’t you?” And then he walked out.

You could only keep shouting. Because, if you stopped, you’d realize what had happened. That you’d killed Bumblebee. That you’d killed Stevie. That you were a murderer, and everyone you’d loved died because of you, and nothing– 

In the silence, you roared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I’m dying.”  
> “Is it peaceful?”  
> “It’s like a dream.”  
> “I want to dream.”


	13. Great Escape

Anger.

You were pretty familiar with anger. Anger was losing your arm, living in a shitty apartment, dealing with a mountain of debt for the rest of your life.

But you weren’t so familiar with rage. Maybe the right term was fury. It felt like it was searing your skin, roiling under the surface, thrumming in your veins like ice water. Anger was barred teeth, but rage was the heat rolling coming off your arm, the hand around your throat, tiny daggers of pure hatred that pierced your lungs.

“I’m going to kill him,” You decided. Water was wet, grass was green, and you were going to kill Megatron. It was a fact. Just as simple as the next one, “And I’m going to save Stevie.”

You looked down at your arm, the panels all flared outwards, then to the wall outlet, the control panel display. Well. You knew your arm better than anyone. So if you couldn’t gather enough power, you’d just have to take it from somewhere else. You slammed your arm into the wall, shattering the control panel casing, revealing the power supply. From there, you used your right hand to grab the exposed ends, pulling them as far as they could go. A shallow breath. Then, you shoved the wires into the exposed center of Red, the power supply surging. 

Energy flooded you. Your arm lit up in a flash of color, while you felt your entire body reel, your eyes blurred with it. It was like a hundred energy drinks, like getting tossed into a pool in summer. It was both amazing and terrifying. You turned to the wall, forcing your hand to connect to the cell bars, your teeth chattering with the power. Then, you clenched, and the bars crumbled into fine powder, one by one until you’d made a way out. But by then, the energy was becoming overwhelming, burning your hand and causing your muscles to spasm. You let out a gasp as you finally released the wires, and you collapsed to your knees, the sudden silence. All you could do was breathe heavily, feeling your muscles occasionally twitch. A few drops of blood dripped from your nose onto the floor. With a grunt, you reached up with your left arm and yanked the collar off your neck, the metal crunching and falling uselessly to the ground.

“New plan,” You decided, “Never do that again.” 

Still, you stood up, your entire body whining at the motion. But, you still had rage on your mind. Unfiltered wrath. Pain could wait for when you cared. Right now, you had to find save Stevie. And if you couldn’t save him alive, then by god the Decepticons had better hope they could save themselves from you. 

You stared at the long drop from cell to floor. Only for a moment, really. Your arm hadn’t failed you before, and it wouldn’t fail you now, so you did a repeat of your earlier move and jumped down, throwing your elbow out and in front of yourself to absorb the impact. As far as plans went, it went pretty well for you. Sure, your side would be bruised for the next week, but that was a future problem for future you. You liked to try and stay positive. So, after dusting yourself off and making sure that your arm wasn’t dented, you stood up and began for the door. 

“Gotta find Stevie,” You reminded yourself, exiting the room and pressing your back against the wall. Okay. Just like last time, walk until you found something. You weren’t positive, but going to the left seemed good. That’s where Backflight and Shiftdrive always came from, so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume they’d taken Stevie there with them. 

You slunk down the halls. Sure, you were angry, enraged beyond belief, but you had to be careful. You’d already forced your arm once, and you didn’t want to try and test your limits so soon after. Besides, it was working well. Any Decepticons that passed by didn’t even notice you as you clung to the shadows, aided by the purple and grey, skuddling and skulking towards your friend. Hopefully towards your friend. Soon, walking became running, your anxiety squeezing your chest. 

“I’m gonna find Stevie,” You assured yourself, wheezing, “And I’m gonna punch Megatron’s dick off.” 

Time passed, maybe about ten minutes at most, until you skid to a stop. A door! Well, that is to say, a door that was moderately familiar. Unlike the hundreds of other doors you passed. You prepared yourself, steeling your nerves, urging the embers of your rage to return to a fire. You hissed, clenching your fists, your left arm heating up and sparking from the excess energy from before. Then, the door slid open.

You, however, stepped back. 

“Backflight?” You stuttered, your mind freezing. Only for a moment, before everything returned in full force, and you growled.

“Oh,” Backflight seemed to blink, “You look...horrible.”

Distantly, you realized that you still had blood on your face, and your clothes were still caked with mud from days ago, and hey, your arm was twitching with power sporadically. 

“You’re gonna get turned into paste in five seconds if you don’t tell me where Stevie is,” You threatened.

“How did you even get out?...” Backflight queried, looking uncomfortable. Your eye twitched.

“Where is he?” You demanded, shoving your left hand into the doorframe and squeezing, just to bleed off some of the urge to destroy, “Tell me!”

“Primus, he’s fine!” Backflight squawked, interrupting you. You stopped looming and assaulting doorways, but remained suspicious. Backflight glanced around the hall, making sure they were clear, before scooping you up and closing the door. You struggled and made inhuman noises of hatred.

“Shush for two clicks, would you?” Backflight hissed, “Do you want the whole base to hear you?”

You stopped flailing like a gremlin, narrowing your eyes. 

“That was a rhetorical question,” Backflight clarified, sighing, “Look. It’ll be easier if I just show you.”

“I’ll show you,” You grumbled darkly, but allowed yourself to be brought further into the room. Another door, this one with a keypad, Backflight hitting a few of the buttons with his free hand. The harsh light flooded out, and you squinted against it. Guh. 

“–and then I said, oatmeal, are you crazy?”

That was Stevie’s voice. As in, the voice of Stevie. The thing that he used to speak. Stevie’s voice. 

“Stevie?” You blinked. And true, as your eyes adjusted, there stood Stevie. Alive and not dead. Not even about to be dead, either. Perfectly fine, if a little messy still from his art supplies. Stevie looked up at you. He paled for a moment at your appearance, before you rushed over and gave him a super big hug.

“Stevie,” You exhaled, your words coming out in a single breath, “I thought you died and it was all my fault and I cried a little it was really gross BUT you’re okay and I’m crying again eaughhh.”

It was true. You were, indeed, crying again. It was really gross. Stevie made sympathetic noises and hugged you back, until you’d stopped shaking and your left arm whirred with your anxiety. Stevie pulled back, staring.

“What happened to you?” Stevie asked, looking between your face and your arm. 

“I punched my way out of Megatron’s room,” You stated, scrubbing some of the blood off with the back of your hand, “‘s not something I’d recommend.”

“I thought you were a slasher for a solid ten seconds,” Stevie tilted his head, but smiled softly. But your agitation broke the moment. 

“How are you not dead?” You questioned, “Because, I specifically remember Megatron saying for you to be made dead.”

“I helped,” Shiftdrive butted in, making himself known after having watched your awkwardly tearful reunion. You peered up at him quizzically.

“Why?”

“I couldn’t kill him,” Shiftdrive hastened to explain, almost frantic. It was a little jarring, since every time you saw him he was calm and collected. 

“But you killed Bumblebee,” You retorted, hissing. Shiftdrive awkwardly twiddled his fingers, and a silence loomed.

“Wait,” Your eyes widened, “You didn’t...”

“Okay!” Shiftdrive rose his hands up, “I couldn’t do that either!”

Backflight placed his hands on his face and muttered something that sounded like a prayer but definitely ended with, “We are so dead.”

Shiftdrive continued, undeterred, “I’m not a good Decepticon, but it was either this or die back in Praxus, and I thought I could keep this up for a while without actually hurting anyone, but now Megatron is going to find out, and then he’s gonna kill me or kill Backflight, and–“

Backflight slapped Shiftdrive.

“Stop,” Backflight commanded. Shiftdrive was too confused by what had happened to do much of anything but nod, so Backflight continued, “We’re going to get out of here. We’ll all get out.”

“You slapped me,” Shiftdrive noted.

“...you are incorrigible.”

“Guys,” You interjected, “How’ll we get out, though?”

Backflight looked over at you, “Well, we’d have to sneak out through the cargo hold. Hopefully by the time they notice our absence, we’ll be able to contact the Autobots.”

“Are you going to join the Autobots?” Stevie inquired, tilting his head a little.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Backflight nodded.

“I’m all for the Autobots,” Shiftdrive regained himself a little, smiling mischievously, “Especially since I won’t have to call Optimus ‘lord’.”

Backflight snorted.

“Come on,” Shiftdrive crouched down, holding out his hands, “We gotta get going soon if we’re gonna make it.”

You and Stevie stepped forward. Or rather, you stepped forward. Stevie didn’t fit, so Backflight had to pick him up instead. Like a cat. And before you could make mention of that, Backflight hushed you.

“We have to be quick and we have to be quiet. Come on,” Backflight whispered to both you and Shiftdrive, before carefully hurrying out of the room. Shiftdrive nodded once, before following. You held your breath and hoped for the best, your arm clicking noiselessly.

There were...a few close calls. At least Shiftdrive had a really good poker face. And you didn’t run into any of the actual Decepticons that mattered, which was double great. Soon, all four of you were at the cargo hold. Backflight released a tense noise.

“There’s an exit over there. I’ll have to take the aerial route, while Shiftdrive will go around the side and utilize the grounder way,” Backflight stated, voice a low murmur. Shiftdrive nodded, gesturing for Backflight to go. You waved encouragingly to Stevie, mouthing ‘stay safe’, and he smiled with a touch of confusion. Ah, whatever. He got the idea. 

A door slammed. Everything and everyone went absolutely silent. Well, except for your arm. It whined out a puff of steam, but aside from that, nothing more. Stevie looked like he was gone to a different plane of existence, one without insane robots and prison breaks. You wish he’d taken you with him, because honestly, same. 

“Who’s in here?” Someone barked. Starscream, that was his voice. You’d recognize the annoying twit anywhere. You heard him start stomping around, searching for the intruder. Why was he even in the cargo hold was beyond you, but you realized, with great fear, that he was getting closer and closer to Backflight and Stevie. 

You looked up at Shiftdrive. He glanced down at you. You both nodded. You could see Backflight glaring at you both with an expression of dawning horror.

“Starscream,” You sang. Another moment of silence. Then, it processed, and Starscream let out a screech of rage.

“You!” He shouted.

“Me,” You replied. You could hear him stop going towards your friends and start running for your location. Shiftdrive set you down nearby and placed a finger on his lips, a ‘shhh’ as he melded with the shadows. Starscream rushed in, stopping once he saw you.

“Hello, human,” Starscream simpered, “Are you lost?”

“Yes,” You replied, absolutely monotone, “I’m lost, and I’m so scared.”

Starscream cackled, “I’m afraid Megatron isn’t here to protect you,” Then, he loomed, smirking, “And you’re about to have a tragic...accident.”

You blinked. From the shadows behind Starscream, Shiftdrive reappeared. He tapped the seeker on the shoulder.

“What?!” Starscream barked.

“I’m an accident,” Shiftdrive grinned, then punched Starscream straight in the face. You whooped, and then realized briefly that that statement didn’t mean exactly what Shiftdrive probably thought...then you just kept on whooping and hollering.

“This hurts you way more than it hurts me,” Shiftdrive stated, wiping his knuckles off, as Starscream clutched his face and hissed.

“You! I should’ve known you’d help the human escape,” Starscream growled, squaring his stance and flaring his wings, “No matter. I’ll deal with this insubordination myself.”

“Oooh,” You jeered, “I cant wait to make you eat those words, son.”

That’s about when Starscream’s hind brain likely realized how screwed he was. Or maybe not. Either way, Starscream just pulled out his blaster and started firing. Little did he know that you had a bone to pick with him. While Shiftdrive kept Starscream’s fire, you climbed up to the top of your ledge. Then, just as Starscream prepared another volley, you leapt. You twisted through the air, using gravity and the weight of your left arm to propel straight to Starscream’s head. Your elbow connected with a clonk, tossing him off balance. While you landed and collected yourself, Shiftdrive followed up with a heavy kick to Starscream’s sternum. The seeker fell back, stunned, and while you and Shiftdrive smiled dangerously, he proved himself as the coward he was. 

“Decepticons!” He screeched into his communicator, “There are escapees in the cargo bay!”

Shiftdrive scooped you up before you could blink, sprinting back further into the cargo bay.

“We gotta get out, now,” He explained, looking for the exit, “Back is already out with your friend. There’s not time for the grounder exit.”

“Are we gonna jump out?” You asked, “Because, I’ve already jumped off of high places like three times lately and–“

“I’m jumping out!” Shiftdrive announced, already halfway out the door with you.

“–yeah you know what whatever.”

Thankfully for you, Shiftdrive cupped his hands around you (as best he could), and then you were falling, for the third or forth time, and you honestly just...didn’t care anymore. This was your life. You fell off of things and that’s life sometimes. At the very least, you were away from Starscream. 

Landing in the forest with an almost earthquake like thud wasn’t preferable, but then Shiftdrive popped right up, like a spring-loaded gun, all excitement and energy. Not a single scuff on him.

“We should’ve gotten away,” Shiftdrive exhaled, looking around, “Now we just gotta find Backflight.”

“After you,” You snorted. Shiftdrive did a mock bow, but complied. And as you walked across the forest (mind you, a different forest) and your arm whirred, you felt that your story wasn’t over yet.

Call it a hunch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me originally: one more chapter and an epilogue  
> Me now: you fool


	14. Only Human

Walking across the forest soon turned to ambling, because you were actually pretty tired. Shiftdrive shared that sentiment. Backflight and Stevie were a little ways away, already hidden and resting for the night. And seeing how it was literally nighttime, resting seemed like a good idea. You’d had a busy day, after all, filled with punching and crying. If you didn’t get sleep soon, you’d just end up punching and crying some more. 

“We can do a few hours,” Shiftdrive suggested. You nodded, and soon your ambling slowed to a crawl. Thankfully at that moment, a small building seemed to plop down on the horizon. You approached it, noting with glee that it was a (slightly moldy) old power substation block. The various small pylons still there sparked occasionally, power still running through, and the building had a roof, which was nice. It was good enough for you. 

“Hey, Shift, let’s bunk here,” You called. Shiftdrive leaned over, eyeing the area.

“Looks pretty good to me,” He agreed. He transformed, something you never got used to, taking the form of some kind of tough looking car, “Hop in.”

Whatever. Hey, it was better than sleeping on the floor. You clambered inside, and Shift backed into the room, the opening leaving a good view of the area. You shimmied around in the backseat, until your right arm was a good pillow and your left one was a good...moral support. Hopefully Red got better in the morning. And speaking of morning, as soon as you had reception, you’d have to contact Optimus. He was probably worried, right? You hoped. Lord did you hope. You were still feeling some pretty warm feelings for Optimus, and they’d convalesced into a big feeling of ‘yay’ whenever you thought of him. First thing you’d do when you got back would be to apologize. Then you’d kiss him. Maybe punch him, you were still thinking about that one.

Sleep came quickly. That wasn’t a surprise, considering the day you’d had. Hell, the week. The past month. You could sleep for years, but that would be called a coma, and you had too much stuff to deal with to just fall into a coma. Maybe later. But as you slept, you dreamt of uncomfortable things, things that made your arm twitch in your sleep, a frown on your face, until finally you awoke with a jolt and a gasp, a sound that was a lot like:

“Wbagugh-“

You calmed yourself.

“Auhhhhh...” You quietly wheezed, flopping back down and sighing. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep, but it didn’t feel like long at all, and you still felt awful. Actually, you felt worse. Now you could feel all your bruises, and the new bruises on top of those ones. You elected to roll over, propping yourself up with your elbow and looking out of the building. It was still nighttime, but some of the stars had moved around. The power pylons glowed faintly in the darkness, and the moon shone down, spilling light all over the clearing. You grunted, deciding that you wouldn’t be getting any sleep anytime soon. At least Shiftdrive was sleeping. You wondered how Stevie was doing...

Thunk

You blinked, looking over to the source of the noise. That was a thunk, a thunk in the middle of a...suddenly eerily quiet forest.

“Shift,” You whispered, hitting the car door, “Shift, wake up.”

A few of the lights on the dashboard began to turn on, so you kept hitting, until Shift grumbled.

“Whazzit?”

“I heard something.”

“S prolly a bear.”

Another thunk, this one much louder.

“That’s not a bear, buddy.”

You slunk out of the car, opening the door and stepping out. You looked behind yourself, “I’ll go check. Hold on,” Because you were just asking to be murdered by a cryptid, and silently you left the building. The noiseless feeling of electricity surrounded you, the occasional spark in the air, as you crouched out of the substation area. Not far, just a foot. You stared hard at the darkness of the wilderness, looking for trouble. Nothing came. You waved Shiftdrive out, and he complied, driving out and transforming like he was taking a big stretch. He too peered out at the forest line, but just like you, saw nothing.

“I’ll try to call up Backflight,” Shiftdrive stated, going back and leaning on the substation building, typing something out on a keyboard you couldn’t see. You frowned, continuing to squint and squirm at the trees. Your left arm shifted noisily. One breath. Two.

Thunk

And, with the thunk, a deep laugh. That’s really how you knew you were screwed.

A great oak was felled in front of you, and you squawked at the sight, the tree snapping and breaking like it was nothing. Out stepped the biggest dick of the week: Megatron himself. You should’ve been surprised, but you really weren’t. As he opened his mouth to make some dramatic quip, your whipped a rock at his head. It bounced off with a tink, but cut off whatever he was going to say.

“Wh–“ Shiftdrive shouted, only to stop as well, noticing what was happening. In an instant, he transformed his arm into a large blaster, aiming it at a foe that was twice his size, “Get back!”

You weren’t sure if that was directed at you, but you stepped back anyway, until you were at the substation building and Megatron was much angrier than before.

“How dare you,” Megatron spat, shoving more trees out of the way, “Think,” he began stomping closer, looming, “To defy me?” 

“I didn’t think, I did,” You retorted, your voice rich with vitriol. Shiftdrive didn’t move to shush you, which was as good as a confirmation to continue in your books, and so you squared your shoulders, pointing with your left hand and looking angry.

Megatron still found your intimidation as charming as before, which wasn’t an ego boost, as he chuckled at your threats, “You have skill, I’ll admit,” He smiled, all teeth and black coffee, “Defeating Starscream. Breaking out. You almost got away, too.”

“What makes you think we won’t, huh?” Shiftdrive demanded, finally speaking up. He would’ve cut an intimidating figure, if you couldn’t see the slight shake of his hand.

“Hm. I can name one reason,” Megatron considered. There was a brief moment of silence, where your arm tensed hard enough to strain your core, your eyes jumping around the area. The brief moment shattered with motion, Megatron’s cannon firing, purple blast of energy that sailed hard and struck fast, hitting Shiftdrive, and Megatron roared, “This!”

Your eyes went wide at the sight of the purple blood, and you barely spared a moment to understand what had happened before you leapt forward, charging at Megatron with a bellow and words that meant nothing. Your fist met metal, but before you could even begin your fight, Megatron picked you up, holding you like an unruly child, even as you screamed and thrashed. 

“I’ll kill your friends, and make you watch,” He promised. You reared yourself back and let the gravity do the rest, digging your arm into his shoulder and thrashing. He seemed surprised at the attack, or maybe in pain, and brought you forward with a yank, narrowing his eyes. He was no longer amused. He barred his teeth, but before he could say anything more, Shiftdrive shouted something and his blaster shot hit Megatron in the other shoulder. Megatron snapped his attention to his other attacker, throwing you unceremoniously and stepping forward. You wheeled in the air, until suddenly you hit the ground, and there was a muffled crunch, before the world went white.

Senses slowly returned to you. Hearing came first, some kind of ringing in your ears, gigantic thuds and shouts of rage. Your eyes regained focus shortly after, blurry and confused, watching as Shiftdrive was thrown into power pylons, over and over. Megatron didn’t even look like he was trying, he just looked...mad. You could smell the blood, which is to say, your blood, and the glowing purpley-blue substance that was their blood. It mixed with the scent of burnt ozone, which came from the electricity in the air. You inhaled, and a wet, rattling sound came from your lungs. You tried to get up, but you had to stop, piercing daggers of agony across your torso and arms. You would’ve grit your teeth, but even that motion was too much.

“Stop,” You mouthed. You didn’t have enough energy to yell, or shout, or scream. There was only the pain. Your mind was dominated by the two thoughts: pain, and that Shiftdrive was being killed. Ergo, you had to save him. 

Carefully this time, you tried to move again. Your left arm was easier than the right. That was promising. You inhaled shallowly, and made to move your legs.

Nothing happened.

Had you been in any state to panic, you would, but all you could manage was a dull sort of realization. You tried again, but nothing happened. You tried to focus on the pain in that area, but there was none. There was just...nothing. You couldn’t feel your legs. There was a great swell of pure terror, but just as suddenly, it stopped. You blinked. Then, with another set of shaky breaths, you kept going. You wouldn’t give up. You just had to get to Shiftdrive.

“Stop,” You croaked. Megatron didn’t notice, or more likely, didn’t care. He just kept punching, and slamming, and shooting. Shiftdrive would keep getting back up, but slower each time. At one point, part of his arm had been torn off, and the area was sprayed with that glowing blood. But he just kept going. You grunted, digging your left arm into the dirt, and forcing yourself forward. Just had to keep going. If you got a little closer, you could...do something.

“Stop!” You shouted, blood in your eye and a line dragged in the soil from where you’d pulled yourself. Megatron...paused. He held the limp and unmoving Shiftdrive in his hand, turning to look over at you. His face was cold, colder than you’d ever seen, but the moment he noticed you, he gained a cruel smile.

“Here,” He decided, before discarding Shiftdrive. The smaller bot landed with a thud in front of you, and he didn’t move an inch. You frantically scrambled over to him, hoping against hope that he was still alive, somehow.

“Your friends are close,” Megatron looked over to the trees, seeing something you couldn’t, “I think I will kill them next.”

“Fuck you,” You spat, hands still on Shiftdrive, as if you could protect him, “Y-you won’t win.”

“I’m afraid I won a long time ago,” Megatron laughed pleasantly. He stopped for a moment, looking you over, “It won’t be long until Soundwave finishes decrypting your arm. I’ll have Knockout deal with it after that, permanently.”

Maybe it was the casual disregard for everything about you, maybe it was the fact that he’d killed Shiftdrive, or maybe it was because you were paralyzed. Either way, you felt something new stirring inside you: a righteous, roiling fury, a rippling rage that burned everything it touched, stretching out from your left arm and through your entire body. You eyed the power box to your left, and, with the last reserves of your strength, shoved your left arm in. 

You’d promised you’d never do it again. Well, tough luck. You were going to save Backflight and Steve, you were going to save Shiftdrive, and you were going to punch Megatron, or die trying. The power began to siphon into your arm, and it quickly reached the limit of what you could contain. But, unlike before, you kept going. You needed more, you needed to protect your friends. You felt the energy reach into your body, and just when you thought you were going to die from the pressure, something new happened: your arm spoke.

“Redline protocols activated.”

The excess power began to filter outwards, wrapping around your body in bands of hard light, forming blocks, rudimentary outlines of a larger form. The power pylons began to spasm, lighting up bright in the darkness, causing Megatron to stumble back. You felt new sensations, the air in your lungs becoming fresh, strength beyond what you’d ever remembered. Hard light hardened into armor, and you opened your eyes, your body larger than it had been mere minutes ago. You looked down and around, realizing that it really did turn into armor. You weren’t as tall as Megatron, but you you close, and you could stand up, which you did. Whatever your arm had done, you had a feeling that this was the secret everyone had wanted to know about.

“You want this data so badly?” You asked, perfectly calm. A vicious grin tore across your face, translating onto to the helm you bore, “Then come and take it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And in the town nearby, they’re busy wondering why all their power just went out.  
> Anyway now I get to do big robot fight. One final big robot fight, I should say. So like, expect the next chapter to be 70% robot fight


	15. I Am The Hearse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 50% humor 50% suffer

Megatron was surprised. That was good enough for you, so you capitalized on the moment, taking a threatening step forward. While he had brute strength and wits, you had...anger. Lots of protective anger. You stood defiantly over Shiftdrive, and now that you were either piloting a mech or literally a mech (you weren’t exactly sure) you could see that he still lived. You’d make sure to keep it that way, too.

“Your defiance was amusing, but now you test my patience,” Megatron growled. You snorted, and felt quiet surprise that now he took your threats seriously. Your left arm was thrumming with energy that you were eager to use.

“Less talking,” You decided, “More me kicking your ass.”

“If you’re so eager to die, I’ll be glad to help you,” Megatron rumbled. He stretched, panels on his body shifting, and the cold glare from earlier returned, his cannon ready to fire. You weren’t sure if you had any ranged weapons, but you didn’t want to try and find out. Punching hadn’t failed you before. A tense silence, broken only by the crackles of electricity, the hum of your arm.

Megatron made the first move. He charged forward, going in for the quick finish, firing off a concussive blast of energy. You jumped to the right, skirting past the reaching metal arms of power pylons. Megatron frowned and fired again. You dodged once more, sloppier, feeling the heat of the plasma as it soared past your head. You twisted, regaining your footing, forced on the defensive as Megatron swung his cannon arm at you. You barely got out of the way, crashing through a chain fence, the links flying to the ground. You panicked as you saw Megatron continuing to advance, so you spun to the left, turning the motion into an soccer kick. You launched the power box, watching it slam into Megatron’s torso, and you smiled with satisfaction as he took a step back from the blow. He was surprised. Good, that gave you time to do what you wanted.

Strike, went your fist, as you punched with your left, the power of the arm venting into the air and steaming in the clearing. Megatron blocked your neck punch, using his free hand to go for a jab at your chest, which landed, and you managed to yank your hand free in order to stumble away. That hurt. Huh.

“Don’t be scared!” Megatron shouted, as if he was taking some pleasure from the battle. You knew you were at a significant disadvantage, going in hand to hand with a robot that was older than dirt. But, you also knew you had to get him away from Shiftdrive. So, you directed another series of avoidable punches, letting him push you back out of the fenced area, and away from your downed friend.

“Eat a dick,” You grunted, ducking under a blow. You sprang up, jabbing your knee high, rocketing it into Megatron’s lower torso. He grunted, a slight sound that was only made sweeter by the additional crunch of your fist into his shoulder. You jumped, rolling away from the sweeping kick, feeling surprisingly cocky despite your situation. Obviously a mistake, as the next thing you knew, Megatron fired off a charged blast, hitting you in the chest and turning all of your evasive momentum into a flying hit, as you slammed into the tree line far behind. The great oaks snapped under your sudden impact, but you didn’t spare a moment to dwell on the pain, gasping and dodging to the left. Just in time, as Megatron’s fist crushed the wood where your head used to be. 

“You’re persistent,” Megatron chuckled, and you noted with slight terror that he didn’t seem to be getting tired. Okay. That was fine. You just needed to amp up the jams. Metaphorically speaking; you weren’t Jazz, after all. Whatever. You focused on your left arm, clenching the fist and drawing more power in.

“Eat this!” You spat. Then, you swung wide, letting Megatron block the hit from your right so you could follow it up from your left. And it worked. Your fist collided with his chest, crunching the metal, tearing through panels like wet paper. More of that bright blue blood came rushing out, as you yanked your fist back, handfuls of severed wires in your grasp. Any and all playfulness left Megatron’s face as he bowled in rage, or maybe pain. Pained rage. You barely had time to blink as he body tackled you, using his size to slam you into a tree. Or rather, through the tree. He held you still, bashing your body off another, and another, until you regained enough sense to bring your head forward and slam it back, causing him to stumble and letting you escape. You felt woozy, which was new, like you’d broken your nose and dislocated your shoulder. Which, probably. 

Dodge. Dodge again. You were kept on the defensive, but at least it meant a stalemate. You weren’t hitting Megatron, but he wasn’t hitting you. It would’ve been a fun sparring match, except for the fact that your life was on the line. Another punch, another dodge. You decided to take a risk, feinting behind a tree. Then, drawing yet another burst of power into your arm, you shoved the tree forward. It came crashing down, catching Megatron with it, the sound echoing across the forest. You knew that wouldn’t take him down so easily, though. Instead, you took the time to catch a breather, running out of the wooded area and back to the clearing. And, just as you hoped, Shiftdrive was still there. Better yet, he was starting to move. You couldn’t let Megatron see that, though. Had to buy more time. What better way to do that then to be annoying as shit?

“Getting tired?” You parroted Megatron, flexing your strange robot form, careful not to put too much weight on a twisted ankle. Slowly, the fallen tree rose back up, as Megatron picked himself up and threw it off. He wasn’t looking so great, but still looking better than you. And, unfortunately, he was furious. Maybe it was because you’d dented his armor, or tore away part of his shoulder, or maybe he was just a big cry baby. Whatever the case, he actually picked up the tree, swinging it around and throwing it at you with a roar. You were too shocked to dodge, and it slammed into your body, rolling over you. Thankfully, you detached, and it fell uselessly off the cliff far behind you. You turned back, but only saw black, quickly focusing as you realized you were staring down the barrel of Megatron’s cannon.

“Goodbye,” He growled. The light flared, your brain went blank, and you acted on instinct. Away, your brain screamed, so you rolled, letting the blast obliterate the ground, kicking your legs out and knocking Megatron away. You jumped up, bouncing from your momentum and elbowing him across the face. He reeled back, but you took the chance, siphoning a quick burst of power and popping it off by ramming your fist through his other shoulder. It should’ve been a decisive series of blows, but you watched as Megatron calmly wiped his bleeding face, popped his arm back in, and stared you down. You made to dodge, but failed, meeting only pain.

“Enough!” He commanded. You impacted the dirt, scrambling to get up, only to be kicked heavy, falling across the ground until you landed again with a thud, “I’m tired of this!” He continued, not giving you a moment to recover before he picked you up, slamming you against the ground, over and over, your armor shattering and crushing in. You could hardly focus, and he threw you again, your body skidding and coming to a stop near the cliff, striking the rock. The ground beneath you shifted ominously at your pressure. Your mind was in a slight daze, but you knew enough to barely dodge the foot hitting the rock to your left, but not the one planted now on your chest, hard enough that the metal began to pop and groan. Your hand scrambled for purchase, but found no relief. Megatron stared down at you coldly.

“Any last words?” He asked. You wheezed, the sight of the cannon sending a pang of fear through your heart. But, moreso, you felt fire.

“Just one,” You choked out. Your left hand, dug into the rock, released the energy explosive you’d been powering for the last minute, and suddenly the cliff crumbled. Megatron roared, and above the din of rocks tumbling, you shouted, “Bye!”

You kicked. Megatron fell off you, flying over the destabilized cliff, as you threw yourself up and climbed back onto safe land. The rest of the cliff area you’d once lay on disintegrated, falling down, far far down into the forest bellow. Megatron shouted the entire way. But, even he was silenced by the mountains of rumble that buried him. 

Quiet.

Painfully, you crawled back to Shiftdrive. Your armor fell off piece by piece behind yourself, a trail of red that disappeared into glimmers light in the darkness of the nighttime. Like fireflies, flaking away. Crawling soon turned to dragging, as most of your armor crumbled, and your legs returned to their new, useless status. You wheezed as you finally collapsed, on your back, looking up at the stars. Your left arm whirred, energy finally spent. Shiftdrive lay silent behind you.

“I did it,” You whispered, voice quiet, the sounds of nature returning. You smiled, stretching your right arm out to grasp Shiftdrive’s hand, and you rose your left hand up, spreading your fingers out to catch the starlight, “I did it.”

You let your arm fall back down. It was peaceful. You’d saved the day, and you’d saved Stevie, and Shiftdrive, and Backflight, and everyone. You were a big goddamn hero.

“Are you proud of me, Optimus?” You asked the sky, as if the moon could answer. No response, save for the wind. Shiftdrive would wake up soon, and you’d be fine. You closed your eyes, fatigue heavy, and thought of happy things.

Crunch. 

Labored, your eyes snapped open. No. 

Crunch.

No, no no. This wasn’t happening. You’d finished, you were done, you’d fought your part and now you won, that was how it worked. 

Crunch.

You began to hyperventilate as, from the remnants of the cliff face, a metal hand rose. Silver, all sharp edges, horrible mech with a horrible, gleaming smile, marred only by the blue blood that dripped from his teeth as he stared at you with murder in his eyes. You tried to get up, but remembered too late that you couldn’t. And even if you could, you knew you wouldn’t run. Shiftdrive was still there, and he was your friend, damnit, you wouldn’t leave him. Even if it cost you your life. 

Slowly, Megatron stomped over to you. You could hear the menace in each thunderous footfall, his eyes burning with rage, but speaking of victory. Closer, he came, closer, until his shadow blocked out the moonlight, the shroud of death lowering over you.

“I win,” He declared. His voice struck you like the grim finality of a judge’s gavel, and he rose his cannon one final time. Several weeks prior, you might have resigned yourself– you might’ve felt fine with this. But, now, you grit your teeth, feeling the blood and the sweat, and glared defiantly one final time.

“Get away from my sparkmate, you slagheap!”

Megatron was thrown off of you with a great calamity. You looked over in disbelief, but the image didn’t change: Backflight. Backflight, punching the everloving tar out of Megatron.

“Backflight?” You mouthed, suddenly woozy. You touched your side, and worryingly, it came back red. You looked back, to the area you’d crawled from, realizing the dirt was stained with blood up to your point. 

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Another voice. You blinked, and Orion came into view, hovering over you, blonde hair, his big blue eyes full of worry. 

“Orion?” You asked. You squinted, and the image of Orion melted away, replaced by Stevie. Stevie. He was safe.

“You’re bleeding out. Holy shit,” Stevie swore, frantically pressing his hands to your side. You watched him in a detached sort of way, as he tried to stem the blood, press his sleeves to you, the red staining his clothes.

“You’re gonna be okay, you’re gonna be okay, Ratchet is here, and– fuck, James! James, they’re bleeding out, hurry– we need a doctor, someone help, please!” 

Stevie’s voice went quiet in the background of noise. You watched as a blurry flash of red and blue came crashing into Megatron. Optimus. Slowly, one by one, your senses faded away, until the last thing you knew was the sight of Optimus, fighting to save you, even when you knew it was too late.

“I don’t want to go,” You mouthed, “I don’t want to go, I’m sorry...”

Vision left you, and the world went black one final time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Please, I don’t want to go.”


	16. Ground Control

Being dead should’ve come with a game over screen.

You decided that around the third time you rolled over. Your body was back to pristine condition, which meant that it was how it had been a month ago. Red was still with you, which said a lot about your self image, but you didn’t mind. It made the whole...laying around in purgatory thing less boring.

Speaking of purgatory...

You were dead. You thought. Probably dead, considering that unlike the other times you thought you were dead, this time you couldn’t wake up. A little bit chilling, that realization, which occurred around the first time you rolled over.

You could still walk, you soon realized. Not that it helped much. You spent an unknown amount of time just walking across the featureless void, hoping to find something. 

You stopped after what must’ve been a few hundred thousand steps. That’s when you decided to sit back down, rolling over for the second time. Walking had helped, made it easier to ignore your situation and the troublesome thoughts that came with it. But sitting down, you couldn’t try and outwalk them.

You were dead. You’d died in your best friend’s arms, as he screamed your name. Optimus, close enough to touch, fighting for you, or because of you. And he’d finish with Megatron and run to your side, only to find out that he’d been too late. That you were dead. 

Your face twitched. 

You’d died a hero, you tried to remind yourself. You’d saved the day and everything. But dying a hero wasn’t an consolation prize, not when your gut churned with guilt. It didn’t help that the afterlife, or wherever you were, sucked. You rolled over for the third time.

So, you were dead. 

“At least I have you, Red,” You sighed, talking for the first time since you’d gotten there. You looked over at your arm, before gingerly reaching your other hand out, and touching the plates, “Being dead sucks.”

“Actually, you are in a coma.”

Your eyes shot open wide, staring at your arm. At Red. Who had just spoken, actual words, which was just as surprising as the first time it had happened.

“What the hell,” You settled on. A brief silence, before the darkness of the dead purgatory was illuminated by a flash. When you reopened your eyes, a massive and imposing robot towered over you. They were red, with black accents, and it took all of half a second to realize that it was Red. The enlarged version of your arm on them was a bit of a giveaway. 

“Red?” You managed. The robot, or rather, Red stared down at you, not a tinge of emotion on their face.

“My designation is Redline, Autobot soldier,” Red informed. 

“Wait, you’ve been alive this entire time?” You squawked. Red held up a palm to stop you.

“No,” Red shook their head slowly, “The real Redline was killed in battle many aeons ago. I am the security protocol installed into the body, in case of intruders,” ‘Redline’ paused, “I am a copy of Redline’s personality matrix, so if it would help you, you may consider us the same.”

You nodded. That made some sort of sense. But, you stopped.

“You said I wasn’t dead,” You began, as Redline stared, “That I’m in a coma. How...how do you know that?”

Redline’s eyes lit up, before they leaned down, projecting a hologram out in front of you. In the darkness, it looked like a hundred suns, so you basically had to squint your eyes against the image. Once they focused, though, it was all worth it.

“That’s Orion!” You pointed. True to your word, it was Orion. Or rather, Optimus. You lay unmoving in a hospital bed, while Optimus sat in a nearby chair, face in his hands. You watched the scene, as your chest rose and fell almost unnoticeably. You would’ve been convinced it was a still image, had Ratchet not walked in with some medical equipment.

“It’s me,” You breathed, before looking back over to Red. They continued to watch you, expression unreadable, “Why?”

“So you could see,” Redline stated, stepping away from the hologram. You brought your attention back over to it, unable to look away. 

“There’s Stevie,” You whispered, as if you might disturb him. He looked like he’d been crying. Jimmy– or rather, James was there, comforting Stevie. You reached your hand out to the hologram, but it passed right through. You expected it, but it still made you frown.

“You’re not dead. Yet,” Redline caught your attention, causing you to turn with unease.

“Yet?” You ventured, “Why yet? Can’t you do something to help me?”

“Your coma is not natural. I caused it,” Redline inclined their head. Your jaw stopped working for a moment, but your fist didn’t, and you had to stop yourself from lashing out.

“What do you mean you caused it?!” You demanded, stepping forward and making a sweeping gesture to the hologram, “Put me back!”

“I’m also the only thing keeping you alive,” Redline stated, voice just a touch colder, barely a degree. You narrowed your eyes still, but waited for an explanation.

“Start talkin’.”

“The humans that salvaged me for you did the implant improperly. While normally not an issue, you have been using my abilities to the point of straining your body, for years now,” Red brought up another hologram, this one of you. It showed the plates fused with your spine, the nerve endings. It showed the damage, your organs shuddering every time you drew in power for a punch. It showed them shutting down as you suited up to fight Megatron.

“Without my intervention, you would have died. But, it is because of me that you would have died.”

“I...thank you, I guess?” You ventured.

“Don’t,” Red replied, their voice becoming slightly softer, “You will not thank me soon.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” You frowned. The hologram diagram of your body disappeared, but the one of your comatose self remained. Someone had come in again, typing things next to you. Agent Connell, it looked like. Agent Whitehill was replacing your IV bags. And all the while, Optimus remained. The contrast of your size and the robots around you wasn’t lost on you.

“When you activated the Redline protocols, you activated a secret Autobot experimental technology, designed to enhanced an Autobot’s combat ability at the cost of some system strain,” Red eyed you, “They worked on Autobot test subjects safety, but...” 

You lifted up your arm, staring at the indents in the red panels.

“Oh...” You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“The Redline protocols were not designed for humans,” Red frowned, the first and slight sign of emotion they’d displayed, “Combined with the strain on your body already, it killed you.”

“You said I wasn’t dead!” You flailed.

“I saved you. You got better.”

“I...okay.”

The hologram room in front of you flickered a little. Your heart monitor was slowing down. Too slight to be noticed, but you saw.

“Your body is shutting down,” Red informed, voice quiet, “It is a slow process, but it is happening, even as I hold it off. The Redline protocols are still activate. They will continue to be active, until your death, or their deletion.”

You were silent.

“I am giving you a choice. Delete them, and you will awaken from the coma, but the data will be gone. Keep them, and die, but give the secrets that could win the war.”

“War’s over, Red,” You whispered.

“A war never ends,” Red replied. They were unmistakably sad.

You were silent for what felt like a thousand breaths. 

“I can’t choose,” You finally spoke, watching the holographic Stevie hold your hand, “I...”

You screwed your eyes closed. It made it easier, when you didn’t have to see your heart monitor dip dangerously. The lack of audio meant you didn’t have to hear the panic. 

”Look,” Red’s voice commanded, but gentle, calm. You opened your eyes, but Red directed you back to the hologram. Stevie was screaming something. Ratchet and Whitehill might have been arguing, but they were both operating medical equipment at lightning speeds, trying to keep you alive. Your chest did not rise. Optimus, or rather, Orion stood beside you, fatigued and lost, and above all, afraid. Afraid of losing you. Losing you a second time.

“You have to make your choice,” Redline reminded.

“I don’t know what to do,” You choked, paralyzed with the choice. You didn’t want to go. A hand on your shoulder. You looked behind yourself, seeing Red, but not. The hologram of what might have been Red, had they been human. They looked like you.

“Do you know our– or, my last regret, before I died?” Red asked. You blinked, clinging to something, anything that might help. Red continued, voice unreadable, “I regretted not being selfish, just the once.”

You stared. Then, you inhaled, before leaning in and whispering your choice. Red gave one sad, small smile, before dissolving back to their main form.

“You won’t feel a thing,” They assured, their eyes blazing with light. You closed your eyes and thought of your friends. More than friends, your family. Of Optimus. Ah. What a cheesy last thing to think of. 

You smiled as the light hit, and then you felt no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Major Tom to Ground Control  
> I'm stepping through the door  
> And I'm floating in a most peculiar way  
> And the stars look very different today...


	17. Unconditional

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

You awoke to the sound of a heart monitor.

Be-beep. Be-beep. Be-beep.

It was a steady comfort, paired nice with the rising of your chest, the sensations that slowly returned to you. 

So, you weren’t dead. 

You carefully opened your eyes, letting them adjust to the sterile lighting of the medical bay. You could feel the crusty eye boogers of sleep clinging to your eyelids, but ignored them, relishing in the fact that you were alive. Red had kept their promise. You cast a brief glance to your left, on Red, still attached. The corners of your lips twitched slightly, but you brushed your gaze past, letting it land on Optimus. He was hunched over in a chair as large as himself, looking weary and lost, even in his sleep. Your maybe smile grew into a real one as you just...looked at him. God, it was only a week or so, at most, but it felt like you hadn’t seen him in years. You wanted to just jump out of the hospital and spin him around, laughing.

You couldn’t, obviously. But, lord did you want.

But. Speaking of jumping up... you drew your attention back, staring at your legs. You hadn’t even thought about the possibility of a life being...paralyzed. You’d just been too focused on saving your friends. And it was worth it, but you still took a careful inhale, and hoped hard that you were wrong.

You wiggled a toe. It worked.

Your laugh was a little wheezy one, your throat parched beyond belief, and you finally gained enough strength to reach your hands up and scrub away the stuff from your eyes. And you kept silently laughing the entire time, because you were alive, and your friends were alive, and somehow, you’d done it. You were a big hero, the whole shebang. The movements tugged uncomfortably on the IV Line in your arm, but you just kept on keeping on.

And speaking of. Optimus must’ve heard your shifting, because he stirred awake, glancing blearily around the room. His eyes stopped dead on you, and it only took half a breath before he bolted up, rushing across the floor. He tripped on some wires, but otherwise came out unscathed. And he still looked as expressive as ever. If eyes were the window to the soul, then his soul was nothing but golden retriever puppies and good feelings. It was like trying to look right at the sun. 

“Hey,” Is what you tried to say, all smooth as you were. What came out was more of a, “Hkrh,” Because your throat was really, really dry. Optimus ran to go get you some water, coming back with it in his Orion form.

“Thanks,” You whispered, once the water was all gone and you felt much more internally moisturized. But after that, no other words seemed to come. Orion and you just stared at each other, long past the point of uncomfortable territory. 

“Look, I’m sor–

“I thought you were de–“

You both spoke at once. Surprised, neither sentence was completed. You blinked a little, suddenly nervous. 

“You first,” Orion offered, and you took the metaphorical olive branch with as much awkward grace as you could muster.

“I’m sorry. For all the trouble I caused,” You managed, eyes darting anywhere but his, because he was just too earnest, “As soon as I’m back on my feet, I’ll get out of here. Scout’s honor.”

“What?” Orion sounded...hurt. You glanced at his face, and it was torn, confused, and you couldn’t look away.

“It’s not that I want to leave,” You hastened to continue, “But, it’s over. The stuff in my arm? It’s gone.” 

You don’t need me causing any more trouble, is what you wanted to say. But you didn’t. It was heavily implied, though, so good enough for you.

“I don’t think I understand,” Orion furrowed his brow, but at least the sorrow was gone, “What does that have to do with you leaving?”

You must’ve been hungry, or more tired than you thought, because you rose your voice just a little, agitated, trying to drive him away, “You don’t need me anymore!” You snapped, then immediately regretted it. You inhaled quietly, closing your eyes, “I-it was either delete the data, or die, and... I’m alive, aren’t I. So, you don’t need me anymore now.”

There was silence for a few seconds. Well, not real silence. You were breathing, and the heart monitor was beeping, and far outside, you could hear the other Autobots moving around. But it was silence enough, and it was only broken by Orion, his calm voice.

“Fifteen.”

You opened your eyes. But, Orion wasn’t looking at you. He was in that strange inbetween state, looking at you but thinking of something else.

“What?”

“That’s how many times I combed the area where you were taken,” Orion explained. He refocused, looking at you, and those damn blue eyes might as well have been oceans of sadness, “Do you truly think I valued you so little, that once we’d found the data in your arm, I’d throw you out?”

You blinked owlishly. Orion grabbed your hand, your left one, squeezing it tightly. 

“I was scared.”

“Scared?” You eyes shifted with some confusion, not really understanding, “I know you’ve fought more Decepticons before. Why’d you be scared of them?”

“I was scared that I’d lost you,” Orion murmured. Instantly, your eyes softened, the realization making the sharp angles soft edges. 

“O–“

“Let me finish,” Orion whispered, pleading. You closed your mouth, and nodded. 

“After I fought Megatron, I found Bumblebee. He was in poor shape, yet still lived. But, his first concern was not himself, but you. We had to fight to get him into surgery.” 

Your heart twinged uncomfortably at the knowledge, but Orion kept on.

“Jazz and Prowl worked day and night to track your location. Arcee patrolled every major city, and Bumblebee searched the deserts and forests within reach. We came up with nothing. In another day, we would’ve had to come to terms with the idea that you were no longer alive.”

Somehow, Orion clenched your hand tighter. You used your right hand to flick his shoulder, bringing him out of his funk.

“Not dead,” You reminded. Orion smiled briefly, but only briefly.

“It was only because of Agent Connell that we were able to begin tracking you,” He murmured. 

“What’d she do?”

“She alerted us to the capture of your friend, Steven Taylor. Security footage showed that it was a Decepticon unit that took him. Arcee tracked him to the West, before having to return to base.”

The west? Hm. That...didn’t actually help much at all. West was a pretty big place.

“If Stevie didn’t help, how’d you find me?” You leaned in more, as if you were two conspirators, just two pals talking.

“Steven’s companion, actually, did the largest part.”

Wait.

“Jimmy?” You asked, genuinely surprised. Orion nodded.

“James was able to track down Arcee, since she’d been the one to peruse the Decepticon that took Steven. With James’ help, he and his guardians aided us in tracing your location, giving us a general area to work with.”

“How general of an area? Are we talking a city, or a county?”

“An entire state.”

Your eyebrows shot way up.

“How did you even find me, then?” You sounded incredulous. Even though it was your story, you still found yourself leaning in even more, eager to know what happened. Coincidentally, Orion was also leaning in. 

“I was patrolling the Mill County Forest when I heard the distress call.”

“Wh–“ Oh wait, “Backflight?” 

“Yes. With his help, we were able to find you. Both you and your ally, Shiftdrive. But...”

Oh. There was the but. Orion closed his eyes, and your heart sank. 

“But, you didn’t make it.”

You pressed in close, until you nudged your head to Orion’s, moving him away a little. He blinked, taking in your angry face. 

“Buddy, lemme get this straight. I caused the problem, and I chose to almost get myself killed, and you blame yourself?”

Orion actually sputtered. It would’ve been cute, if you weren’t indignant.

“You’re an idiot,” You declared. But, he was your idiot, and you felt an overwhelming surge of affection, so you closed the minuscule distance finally, your lips meeting, and you gave him a kiss that was half anger and half pure adoration. When you pulled back, Orion blinked, still stunned. 

“You can’t blame yourself for everything, you big Onion,” You whispered, “If I had the choice, I’d do this all over again, just to see you,” You were heartfelt and sincere, for once in your life, and your words were so mushy that even your face was burning a little. After a moment, Orion also smiled, all wide and gleeful. Nothing like Megatron, and you couldn’t have been more grateful for that than you were now. So, you both sat there, looking at each other like a bunch of happy dopes. 

“We should probably go get the others,” You eventually suggested.

“Yes, we should,” Orion agreed. Neither of you made any move to get up. 

“Hey, Orion?” 

“Hm?”

You leaned back in a little, “I love you.”

And Orion’s smile might as well have been a nuclear explosive, a megaton bomb of joy and adoration, mixed with tree sap and pink heart emoticons. It was bright enough to light up his entire face, and as if it couldn’t get any better, he replied, “I love you too.”

And your smile might not have been as radiant as his, but, you sure gave it a run for its money.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh man this was a fun story. Now we have an epilogue (!!) and maybe something extra, hoho. Stay tuned in for more adorable and sappy nerds in love


	18. Epilogue

The room was quiet– Well, okay, maybe not quiet. You were humming something, some song you remembered, out of tune and maybe missing a few beats here and there. And as you hummed, you watered Fred. 

“And then I said, oatmeal, are you crazy?” You snorted. Predictably, Fred didn’t laugh with you, but you liked to imagine that he did. You rolled your eyes, like he’d given some reply, then you set the little glass of fresh water (spring water, too!) down on the windowsill. 

“Yeah, well, I gotta get ready,” You stated, “I’ve got a date.”

You turned smartly. The room was... lived in, now. The walls had pictures, and posters, and a callender with circles and dates and a few smiles doodled in the margins. You carefully stepped over a pile of discarded clothing, before making your way into the attached bathroom, intent on the shower. As you shimmied out of your clothing, you habitually looked over yourself. The bruises from two weeks ago were gone, and there were a few cuts that had scarred, but, hey, that just added to your appeal. 

“Two weeks,” You whistled low, turning the shower faucet on and waiting for it to heat up, “Almost can’t believe it.”

You stepped into the shower. The hot water was amazing, and you still weren’t used to it, and even after telling yourself over and over, the fact that it wouldn’t run out seemed like some mysterious luxury. You leaned on the wall, the spot you normally did, resting your left arm in the slight indent and heaving a grateful sigh. For a few minutes, you just stood there, water running down your hair and face, sliding off of Red and swirling into the drain. You huffed after a while, grabbing a random bottle of shampoo and starting on your hair. The hair was important, but more important was making sure you didn’t use your left hand. Didn’t want the hair getting stuck in the plating. But, that meant it was just dangling there awkwardly, like always, and you couldn’t help looking down at it and doing a little frown. 

“Hmp, garbage boy,” You muttered, abandoning the shampooing to grab a small pick from the side of the shower. You hunched over your arm, a little away from the water spray, and began the methodical task of removing any dirt from in between the plating. It was pretty boring, and you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. Two weeks...

Ratchet had been surprised you were alive. From what he said, and he said it while looking slightly flummoxed, your entire central organs shut down. He even gave you a picture. Then, when you woke up, all of the damage was gone. The next picture he gave you looked about ten times better. Even the nerve endings that Red had messed up were all cleaned, bundled neatly and preciously, no painful fusing to your spine with plating. Everything was fine. 

Well, not everything. 

You paused to get another clump of dirt out. Red hadn’t been lying when they said that all of the data would be deleted, because when Ratchet looked, it was gone. Each and every inch of the code, vamoosed. And yet, Ratchet– or anyone else, really– didn’t mind. They didn’t care at all. The only thing that mattered was that one, you weren’t dead, and two, you weren’t going to die anytime soon. Stevie was so grateful he almost threw up. 

You set the little pick down, running your arm under some more water, before returning to your hair. Rinse all the lathers out. Then, about the same, you grabbed some conditioner and set that in. It smelled a little like vanilla, maybe. 

“Ugh,” You wrinkled your nose. Not vanilla. You looked over at the bottle, and realized it was one of the ones Stevie gave you. It smelled like ‘frigid arctic wolf howl’, apparently. Whatever the hell that was. Smelled bad. You wrinkled your nose again, but let the conditioner set, and your thoughts drifted to Stevie.

While you were recovering still, Stevie made a point to visit you every day, sometimes multiple times a day. If he could, he’d bring James with him. Stevie was...ecstatic that you were alive. He spent a few days telling you about Backflight, how Backflight had found Optimus and the others, and Jimmy was there, and it was so cool. Then, he got quiet, every time he told he story he’d get quiet around the same part, usually the part where he remembered holding you in his arms and you dying. That was generally the time when Jimmy would butt into the conversation, squeezing Stevie’s smaller hand.

James was a little different than Stevie, because he was glad you were alive, sure, but he was more glad that you had saved Stevie. In his own words: “Little nerd doesn’t have any quit in him,” which was code for, ‘thank you so much for keeping him safe’. They both offered you a place to go after you were done recovering, and you considered it, you really did. Hell, you could go back to college, claim a family emergency and slip right back into your schedule as if nothing happened. You could keep going with your life as usual, like no giant alien robot kidnapping ever occurred.

You said no, obviously. Not because you didn’t love them, but because maybe, just a little, you loved Optimus a touch more. And your dream was here, in the base, not out there with some college and mountains of debt. Stevie and Jimmy were a little sad at your refusal, but mostly, overwhelming, happy that you were okay. You were happy too. 

The shower didn’t last much longer. You rinsed your hair off, then twisted the faucets to ‘no’, stepping onto the bathmat and grabbing one of the many plush towels. It was like being wrapped in a hundred hugs, and you couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face as you dried off with the thing. After that, it was back to the room, but this time you went to the closet. 

“What should I wear?” You sang, hanging off of the opened closet door a little, “What should I wear?”

‘What’ turned out to take a little while to find. It was a date, and a pretty fancy one, maybe. You hadn’t decided exactly where yet, if you were being honest. But, it was fine. You ended up grabbing something fancier to wear, one of the things Jimmy had insisted on getting you (him being an aspiring fashion designer, you’d trusted his judgement). You made sure to take out the shoes he’d selected too, before closing the door and plopping down on your bed. As you struggled the clothing over your head, making sure your left arm didn’t rip it, you wondered how Shiftdrive was doing...

Hm. Maybe the colors of the outfit were making you remember him. Either way, you idly picked at the thought, like a loose tooth. 

After saving you–or after you saved them, you weren’t quite sure how it was– Shiftdrive and Backflight had sworn their allegiance to the Autobots. It meant new emblems for them, and new members for the team. Two new, very excited members, actually. Shiftdrive was relieved that he didn’t have to call everyone ‘Lord’ now, and Backflight was just glad to be safe. Actually, you were secretly glad you had two people you could spar with now. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but it was a hell of a lot better than punching boulders. Besides, Arcee seemed to enjoy watching you guys go at it. Well, when she was around.

You yanked a little too hard on a zipper when the thought came to you, the sudden ‘oh yeah’ moment of remembering that, oh yeah, Arcee and James. Carefully this time, so you didn’t rip anything, you wiggled the rest of the clothing. Since Jimmy had been the one to find Arcee, and he and Stevie wouldn’t be staying, they needed someone to keep an eye on them. Decepticons, and all that. Arcee had been the one to say ‘I can do it’, which honestly made you feel... a lot better. 

“Especially since Megatron is still out there,” You mumbled to yourself, stepping into the shoes and testing your balance. A deep breath, and you calmed yourself. Yeah, Megatron was still out there, but it wasn’t like you expected him to have died. In fact, you were safer now than ever before. If he wanted to try and grab you (which would be really stupid), he’d have to deal with ten times more punches. And there was no way he’d survive ten times more punching. You smiled viciously, taking a measured step forward, letting your confidence swell. 

Who cared about Megatron? There was time for that later. Tomorrow, you’d go with Prowl and Jazz and look for any information in the city. The day after that, you’d help Bumblebee out at the range. And after that, you and Arcee were going to testing out her top speeds. But for now, you had a date. 

“Optimus!” You called, walking to the door, “You ready?”

Optimus called back, and you laughed, the door closing behind you, the sound of your footsteps fading off. 

The room was quiet. No humming, no movement, only what you had left it as. On the desk near the window, positioned right under Fred, a framed photograph could be seen. If one looked closer, they might see it was two people, embracing, one smiling wide at the camera as they kissed the other. One might realize that was you, Orion’s eyes warm as you kissed his face. A nice photograph, a city park, vibrant greens and blue sky in the background. A happy picture. And, at the bottom of the picture, written in a neat little scrawl: 

“Here’s to heroes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And, it’s done. 35k, whew. You know, I didn’t plan on this commission being so long, but what can I say, I was inspired. Thanks for reading Caught Red-Handed, and I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have!


End file.
